


Put Your Curse in Reverse

by frombluetored



Series: It's Tea Time [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, albus and scorpius are already together, albus and scorpius are happy and comfortable in their own skin, and lily truly outdoes herself this time, ginny potter is fed up with rita skeeter and if skeeter makes it to age 80 it'll be a miracle, harry learns the true repercussions of weasley's wizard wheezes, mcgonagall and slughorn are ancient but thriving, rose granger-weasley's learning that slytherins DO make good company, switches between Scorpius's POV and Harry's POV, this is a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 275,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frombluetored/pseuds/frombluetored
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius Malfoy knew his fifth year would be challenging-- but he hadn't expected this. Between his impending O.W.L.s, his new relationship, Quidditch tryouts, the public eye, and the Slug Club, he can hardly catch his breath. Meanwhile, Harry Potter discovers that being a professor at Hogwarts is very different from being a student there-- especially when you've got three mischievous children and a handful of students who can't seem to do more than ogle at you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> (This is a sequel to my fic "Put Your Guns Away, it's Tea Time")

~~~~Harry was kneeling on a particularly damp patch of tilled earth and dripping with sweat. To make matters worse, he was elbow-deep in a bucket of eel eyes. He wouldn't have admitted it to anybody, but he felt disgusted to the point of nausea.

"Come _on_!"

With baited breath, he withdrew his arm for what felt like the hundredth time. There was a sickening _squelch_ as his arm released from the eel eyes that did nothing to help his queasiness. Harry slowly unfurled his fingers, staring down at the tiny eyeballs grouped in his palm. White, white, white, white. He groaned, twisted his wrist so the eyes plopped back into the bucket, and immediately thrust his hand back in. He began withdrawing eel eyes at a rapid pace, searching for the one he needed, and then immediately re-submerging his hand when he inevitably didn't find it.

"Oh," he heard. He paused and glanced behind himself; Ginny had arrived, a glass of wonderful, chilled butterbeer in hand. Harry reached up with his eel-less hand and impatiently pushed his sopping hair out of his eyes. His wife was appraising him with a smirk. "Do you and the eel eyes need a bit of privacy? Are you having a moment? You know, with the—" with her free hand, she mimed shoving her hand into the bucket and pulling it back out. Harry probably would've laughed had she made that joke thirty minutes ago, but he was disgusted, frustrated, and dying of thirst. He fell back onto his bottom and reached for the towel at his side. Ginny approached and settled down beside him as he wiped his arm off, his lip curled with disgust.

"Ugh!" she cried. "God, those smell _awful_!"

"They feel even _worse_ ," he informed her darkly. He reached a hand out for his glass; she passed it to him immediately, probably sensing how lightheaded he was. He immediately began downing the drink as quickly as he could. He felt a cool mist drift over his burning skin a moment later, and when he glanced to the side, he saw Ginny was orchestrating the cool-down with her wand, her eyes glued on the bucket of eel eyes.

"Remind me," she began, "you're looking for a yellow one?"

"Yes," he groaned. "Neville said there should be loads in there. But I've yet to find _one_. I thought about dumping them all out, but that'd ruin them."

" _Accio_?"

"Tried it. Horrible. _Horrible_." The haunted look he sent her must've told her all she needed to know because she grimaced and didn't press the matter further. Harry slid over in the wet dirt to lean his back against the wheelbarrow; he let his head fall back and his eyes shut as he continued sipping at his butterbeer, taking smaller sips now to keep from _actually_ vomiting. He was briefly disappointed when the cool mist from Ginny's wand stopped tracing over his exposed extremities, but he assumed she needed to get back into the house before their lunch guests arrived. However, he heard her voice a moment later.

"Yellow?"

"Mmhmm."

"Like a sort of mustard-yellow?"

"Right."

"How many?"

"Just the one. Neville said it's the next step since these sodding, bloody slugs wouldn't keep away with the mashed up white ones… _oof_!" His words shattered into a surprised exhalation as he felt his wife fall down into his lap. Having assumed she was preparing to walk away, he hadn't anticipated it. He lifted his head and peered at her. She was leaning forward, her face lovely, freckled, and mischievous—and only a few inches from his. Her hair was spread around her and doing a decent job of blocking them from the sun. She held something up in front of his glasses a second later, so close that it took him a moment. When he focused on and processed what he was looking at, he gaped.

"You're joking!" he exclaimed, torn between relief and outrage. He gently pulled the tiny, yellow eel eye from her fingers. "I've been looking for that for nearly an hour!"

His relief won out. He took her into his arms and pulled her to his chest. If she minded the eel goo or sweat, it didn't show; she wrapped her arms around his torso and hugged him back even tighter. He pressed a kiss to her hair, his affection nearly choking.

"You smell _horrendous_ ," she whispered, her breath cooling his damp neck. "You're going to need _two_ showers."

"Fine, sure. Mine and yours." He gently moved her forward so he could examine her face. " _How_ did you find this so quickly?"

"About thirty minutes ago I went to Diagon Alley and bought one of every variety. Harry, you _do_ remember that we're wealthy, right? I know _I_ sometimes forget, but I have a legitimate reason for that. You didn't have to use the eel eyes Neville pawned off on us."

"Honestly, Gin, had I known it would be such an issue, I would've bought my own. But then it became personal."

"Of course. Harry Potter versus the eel eyes. Unlikely romance wrought with tension and fury. Bit of garden fi—"

He cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Wait."

She looked behind her. "What? Is there a kid lurking behind me? Whoever it is—for the last time—no! I will _not_ put that evil device back into the house! It was a horrid mistake and I've had _words_ with Dudley!"

Harry followed the beetle with his eyes. He glanced distractedly to his left, quickly grabbing his nearly-empty glass. He gulped the rest down, his eyes never leaving the insect, and then lurched forward with a battle cry. He stabbed the rim of glass down into the earth, trapping the beetle.

" _That's_ why!" he said.

Ginny immediately dropped down onto her stomach in the dirt. She furrowed her brow and pressed her nose to the glass, staring intently at the insect.

"Is it…? Oh, _please_ let this be the awful hag…" she squinted harder. She sighed. "No. It doesn't have the glasses markings. You've just traumatized an innocent beetle."

Harry shot a glowering look at the tiny holes lining the leaves of his spring cabbages.

"No beetles are innocent."

"Shall I kill it?" Ginny asked. She inflated her eyes like Lily did whenever she was appealing to Harry. "But what if it has a family somewhere?"

He snorted, amused. He reached over and wormed his hand beneath the hem of her T-shirt, his palm warming against her lower back.

"I don't care what you do with it—as long as it's away from my innocent plants."

The damp earth had almost certainly soaked through her shirt and bra by now ( _that_ was a nice thought...) but she remained in place, most likely content to allow his hand to continue caressing her back. She was still squinting at the beetle.

"If it'd been Rita," she began, her voice dark, "I would've stomped her. No. I would've sprayed her with that awful bug spray that smells like cat pee."

Harry was inclined to agree with his wife's murderous thoughts. Rita Skeeter had run three stories about their family in the past two weeks. About things she had no logical way of knowing, unless she was creeping around their home and garden. They'd been hyper-alert for days, their eyes trained in on any small, scuttling movements, hands quick to swipe crawling bugs off of plants, the ground, anywhere. Their most memorable (and paranoid) catch had been at the Burrow last Saturday. They'd both spotted the beetle along the grass, they'd both dove headlong towards the ground for it, knocked heads hard enough to give Harry a lump the size of a bird egg and actually break skin on Ginny's, grappled and wrestled for the beetle for a good minute, and then they carried it around in a jar for the rest of the night, suspiciously staring at its every movement. Hermione had repeatedly done the revealing spell, and had assured them that it was definitely _not_ Skeeter, but they'd remained unconvinced. And that's how they came to have a pet beetle living on the windowsill in their bedroom, where they could keep eyes on it at all times. Lily named "her" Wanda.

"And we're sure she's not used Polyjuice?" Ginny pressed, looking over her shoulder towards Harry. "Because we've had quite a lot of guests over the past two weeks. She could've impersonated any of them."

"Not Hagrid. Half-giant." He was stretched out alongside her now.

"Okay, well, anybody _but_ Hagrid."

She gave a frustrated sigh after her amendment, eyes back on the beetle. She crossed her arms in front of her and pillowed her head on them. Harry was stroking along her spine idly as he thought.

"Well, it'd have to be a guest who could've overheard all three conversations," he said.

"Right. James and Nora's 'engagement', Albus and Scorpius' 'football team', and Victoire and Teddy's _predicament_."

"I dunno if we should call a baby a predicament..." Harry pointed out.

"Eh…agree to disagree. _You_ didn't carry them or birth them or give up your career. Which were, you know, all sacrifices that were worth it and then some. But still—unplanned: a predicament."

"No, but I _did_ give up my sanity."

"Ah, yes. But did you ever _really_ have it to begin with? The jury's still out."

Humored and lovesick, Harry turned to face his wife. He let his palm fall flat against her back. He ducked his face and pressed his nose to hers.

"You know, that sounded positively _Skeeter-ish…_ you couldn't be…but _no_ …my own _wife_ …!"

She grinned wickedly.

"Yes, you've caught me. It is I, best and most attractive journalist, known for—oh, bugger. I hate her so much I can't even pretend. I can't keep up the banter with you. My damn tension headache is returning."

He kissed her forehead. "That's okay, I understand. I won't hold it against you."

"Thanks. This entire situation's just really getting me down, you know? I've been checking every corner of the kids' rooms before they go to sleep, paranoid that Rita's in there…" she shook her head. "I'm just glad that she overheard what she did about Albus. Had she heard and reported about him and Scorpius being together…I'd probably be in Azkaban right now for a grisly murder."

"I wouldn't arrest you. It'd be my last stand before I retire for good."

"I'd be covered in beetle guts. You'd _have_ to arrest me."

"What beetle guts?" he challenged, eyes twinkling.

"I'd be surrounded by all of my and Rita's coworkers at the _Daily Prophet_."

"I'm sorry, Editor, I have no idea what you're pointing at. The wall? I see nothing. I see nobody. My wife? Smashed, illegal animagus Skeeter? _What_? Rita was an animagus?!"

"The Minister was there and saw it with her own two eyes and is ordering you to put me in chains!"

"Hermione, are you feeling okay? Is this about the spat you and Ginny had over who would host on Boxing Day? Hermione, my second-oldest friend. What have we become?"

"It's on Muggle _videotape_."

"I can't trust this videotape—no one's used a videotape in at least twenty years—outdated and unreliable. I'll be collecting my invisible wife and returning home."

She succumbed to laughter so bright it warmed his entire chest. He swept her hair over her shoulder and brushed his fingers through it, watching until the last of the laughter ebbed off. The sunlight had a way of playing off the gold and copper strands mixed throughout her red hair; he found it a bit mesmerizing. She knocked her shoulder into his, pulling his eyes from her shimmering, sunlight-soaked hair.

"Nice to know you've got my back. I'll miss that when some other idiot takes over the department. If I commit murder I'll actually have to answer for it."

"As wrong as it is, there are few people within the Ministry who would send a Potter to Azkaban," Harry admitted.

"Oh, good. Finally—the fame pays off."

They shared a sour look, a bit sorer than usual on the topic of fame (which was saying something), thanks to Skeeter.

Harry's attention was drawn back to the path leading up to the house as the sound of somebody approaching reached his ears. He glanced up the trail and squinted. His eldest son came into view a moment later, accompanied by—

"McGonagall!" Harry hissed to Ginny.

They scrambled upright and to their feet, as if they were still fifth and sixth years, as if she'd just caught them pressed against a corridor wall. Ginny quickly cleaned the dirt from them with her wand. They managed clean, innocent grins by the time McGonagall approached.

"Afternoon, Potters," she nodded. She jerked her head towards James. He was beaming and rocking excitedly from his heels to the balls of his feet. "I'm here to meet about James, as we discussed."

 _Right_. _That was today. Damn it._

"Hi. We were…we just…" Harry looked to Ginny.

"We came to pick some fresh…herbs for you! For…tea!" she improvised. She turned, scanning the rows of plants, and then leaned, grabbing a fistful of basil leaves. "There we go. Ready, Harry?"

"Yep!"

What were the odds that McGonagall liked basil tea? Slim to none. Still—he'd hope for the best.

* * *

 

McGonagall lightly sipped her tea, politely ignoring the periodic crashes and shrieks from the floor above—until Lily gave a somewhat maniacal giggle. She lowered her cup and peered at Lily's parents from above her square spectacles.

"As former Head of House, I typically investigate things when hearing noises like that."

"Oh, we don't need to investigate," Ginny reassured her. Harry reached for her thigh beneath the table and squeezed, trying to tell her to stop, but it was too late. "We know precisely what she's doing. She's decided she's going to invent her own potion."

A familiar expression blanketed across McGonagall's face: stern, concerned, and vaguely amused. Harry attempted to bury his face into his massive mug, hoping the headmistress would miss his brief grin.

"One child wishes to begin training to be an animagus. Another is upstairs concocting a potentially devastating potion. Rumor has it Albus and the Malfoy boy are starting a cult. Potters, I dare say your children are getting bored at home, and it's past time for them to return to Hogwarts." A pause. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm sure you're both quite aware that potion making is an extremely dangerous endeavor? Many of the most useful potions we used today resulted in the initial fatality or disfigurement of those who began the discovery process."

"Yes," Harry said quickly. "She's been corresponding with Slugh—Horace. He's overseen the entire process."

"And Albus and Scorpius are _not_ forming a cult," Ginny quickly corrected. "They were playing a sport called football with the nearby Muggle children. Had Rita Skeeter bothered to read my article about the said sport, she would've known that."

"But probably still would have reported about a cult. Makes for a more despicable story." McGonagall glanced up at the ceiling again as Lily cheered. "What is Lily making?"

"We're not certain. She won't tell us," Harry frowned. "Horace says she's a genius, that it's going to improve the lives of many and that it's _not_ dark magic and it's entirely safe…but that's all we know."

"Personally, I'm convinced it's an eyesight potion," Ginny shared.

Harry nodded. He thought back to Lily's recent appointment with the Muggle optometrist in Godric's Hollow. She'd been less resistant than usual, had actually seemed to _like_ the glasses she chose, and refused to try Muggle contact lenses, insisting glasses would do "for the time being". Of course, it helped that Charlie transfigured the frames to look like shimmering dragon scale hide.

"If she manages it, she'll certainly be a genius. That's one of the few things potions nor charms have been able to correct thus far. Now—on the matter of James. James," she turned to the side, facing their eldest son, who'd been waiting in thrilled anticipation, "let's begin discussing your reasons for wanting to be an animagus."

James nodded.

"Easy. One—" he held up one finger "—my grandfather James Potter and Sirius Black were both animagi. Two—" another finger "—I love a challenge. And three—" a third and final finger joined "—I'd make a brilliant addition to the United Kingdom's scarce elk population. Did you know there's only a handful in the Scottish Highlands? There are plenty across other areas of the world—though they call them _moose_ —but we have a sad, sad lack here, and I'd make some nature-loving bloke's entire _year_ if I just strolled up to him in his garden. Can you imagine!"

McGonagall's eyebrows rose. Ginny muffled laughter into her palms. Harry bit his inner cheek to keep from snorting.

"Well, I'm inclined to think your reasons are more substantive than mine were. I have my concerns, though. Are you positive you'll be able to keep up with your N.E.W.T. course load, your Head Boy and Quidditch Captain duties, _and_ this?"

She was as skeptical as Harry and Ginny were about the entire ordeal. James was great under stress and largely capable, but that was _a lot_ to take on. Harry watched his son's face carefully for any hesitation, but none showed.

"I can _absolutely_ manage it, Professor. My Aunt Hermione gave me a new diary to put my scheduling in and she's filled it out for me _perfectly_ —she's even scheduled meal times! She's probably even scheduled bathroom breaks. Either way, she's sorted my timetable out, and I _do_ have time for all of it."

McGonagall's expression shifted into something distinctly sly. "And Ms. Thomas? Has your aunt Hermione scheduled in time for her? If I recall—you spent a better portion of last year, ah…conferring with Ms. Thomas."

James grinned. "No worries, Professor, it's not an issue. We're in it forever, busy or not. Nora's on my side no matter what. She doesn't need to be penciled in."

"As Dumbledore would have said… _ah, young love_."

James beamed dreamily. "The youngest and the loveliest."

"It will be intensive, difficult work."

"I _hope_ so!"

"I'll hold you to a standard far above that of your peers—and far above your age."

"Honestly, I've always felt like a twenty-nine-year-old."

McGonagall sighed, exasperated. She turned to the Potter parents.

"I'd ask if he's always been this quick-tongued and headstrong, but I'm sure I already know my answer."

Harry glanced to the left. He met Ginny's eyes—the same eyes James had—and shared a sentimental smile, both their memories flipping back to James's early years.

"His first real sentence was _Jamie do it,_ which was put to excessive use. Doing the dishes? 'Jamie do it'. Harry shaving his face? James wrestled for the razor— 'Jamie do it'. Mention that you need to run to Diagon Alley? James had the Floo pot—'Jamie do it'." Ginny shared. She exchanged an affectionate grin with their son. "And nothing was too frightening for toddling James. He would've taken on a dragon at age two with nothing more than a toy wand if we'd mentioned we needed it slain. So, yeah. Always been this headstrong and brave."

Harry—overcome with memories, his heart oversaturated with affection—couldn't stop himself from adding on.

"Gin, remember the time he tried to make you ginger biscuits? When you were ill with Albus?"

His wife collapsed into laughter. He watched her hair shake from the force of it, her spine curved forward as she muffled her laughter into her hands again. Her eyes were shimmering with amused tears when she met his eyes. She glanced back to their guest to explain.

"Harry came home, and there Jamie was, not even two yet, trying to mash an entire ginger root with the handle of my wand. I still don't know how he crept from the bed during naptime without me noticing…I don't suppose you remember?"

She directed the question to James. He mimed locking his lips.

"I'll never tell."

She scowled.

"Come to think of it, Minerva," Harry began, a quick flash of all James's early exploits passing before his eyes, "I think James has been ready to go back to Hogwarts since birth."

McGonagall spared James a warm, fond smile. "That doesn't surprise me. Well, James, as long as you're serious, I anticipate you'll have great success during our training."

Harry was on the edge of laughter, waiting for the customary response to that – _I am serious. I'm James Sirius._ —but it never came. James instead offered a serious nod, his eyes full of gratitude.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Here, Potters—" McGonagall produced a thick stack of parchment from her robes. "I'll need you two to sign this."

Harry and Ginny leaned in, scanning the first few lines of writing. _The parents/legal guardians, _ and _, of_ _James Sirius Potter_ _, hereby permit_ _Minerva S. McGonagall_ _to instruct and teach_ _James Sirius Potter_ _in the art of animagi, acknowledging the potential risks—including, but not limited to, death, disfigurement, public embarrassment, and social scorn—and asserting that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry holds no liability for any such risks, nor any responsibility for what the student goes on to do with his/her new ability once that student has completed their pupillage…_

Harry was content to sign right then and there, but Ginny leaned back in the chair, pulling the form with her. Harry waited for what felt like an obscenely long time as his wife read every single word. McGonagall looked proud at her thoroughness but didn't comment on it. Perhaps she'd guessed what only Harry had ever been told—that Ginny was reluctant to sign her name or write on anything she hadn't examined fully or understood beforehand.

While Ginny read the novel-length form, James struck up an excited conversation about his Transfiguration N.E.W.T. with McGonagall. Harry glanced over Ginny's shoulder every few seconds, pretending to be reading along, but his eyes blurred and his attention drifted. He was glad when the stairs creaked and he latched onto the distraction.

"Al!" he greeted, pleased. Albus stopped dead in the doorway, still in his pajamas and clearly only moments separated from sleep. He squinted, stunned.

"Professor McGonagall?"

"Good morning, Albus." McGonagall's lips twitched. "Lovely dragon pajamas."

Albus blushed. He was still stuck in place.

"Er…what are you doing here? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

"I _can_ travel outside of the school, you know," McGonagall pointed out. Albus furrowed his brow. He didn't argue, but he looked skeptical. "Has your summer been productive?"

A deepening blush. Harry pursed his lips and valiantly fought back his laughter. He was sure the same thought was running through his mind as Albus's: _depends on what you consider productive…_

"Yeah," he squeaked a moment later. He tripped a bit on the hem of his pajama bottoms as he stepped forward. Ginny—eyes still on the form, senses eerily accurate—waved her wand and sent a mug of tea floating right towards Albus's hand. He grasped it.

"Morning, Al," she greeted. "Dad made pastries. We saved you a plate."

"Morning. Blueberry?" he asked hopefully.

Harry felt pride rouse within him. He _knew_ Albus would want blueberry. He'd gone out to the garden to pick blueberries that morning, enough to make at least five pastries for his middle son. James always wanted bananas in his and Lily liked cinnamon, but Albus had always been a blueberry fan. Harry tried to keep his proud grin in check.

"Yep. Five—all yours."

Albus grinned. "Thanks, Dad!"

Harry felt McGonagall's eyes shift to him as Albus went about getting his breakfast, his smile still in place. Harry met her gaze, and when he did, his feelings of pride only doubled, because _she_ looked proud of him, too. He guessed the differences between his relationship with Albus last school year and now appeared glaring to somebody who hadn't been around them during the gradual transition.

"Albus," McGonagall said, as Albus settled down in the seat beside his mum's, plate stacked high with colorful pastries. "I've heard from your Head of House that you're an intense Chess opponent."

Albus hesitated. He lowered his fork.

"Well…I mean, I'm decent enough, I used to play with my uncle Ron all the time and he's _brilliant_ and—"

"Don't be so modest," James scolded. "Professor, he's _great_. The last time I beat him, he was five and I was seven. I haven't managed since."

With a wry smile and a complicated wave of her wand, a brilliant Wizard chess set appeared on the table between Albus and McGonagall.

"Morning game?" she challenged.

Albus paused, his fork held midair. A gradual, surprised grin formed on his face. He nodded.

* * *

 

Ginny finished reading over the permission form. Albus and McGonagall were locked in a concentrated, silent match, their eyes glued to the chess board. Ginny neatly signed the form and then glanced at Harry.

"Statistically, this is probably a _terrible_ idea."

He pulled the form over to himself and scrawled his own signature beside hers.

"I dunno if any of our lives have ever adhered to statistics," he pointed out.

"Fair point."

Albus and McGonagall's match had reached a point where there was only one move being made every five minutes. He could tell both players were getting a bit frustrated.

"Dad!"

Lily's thundering footsteps drew everybody's attention as she bolted into the kitchen, a ladle full of something bubbling and blue in hand. She hurried over to Harry, her free hand cupped beneath the ladle, catching the runoff of the spilling concoction. She was without her glasses, out of breath, and beaming.

"Dad! Drink this!" She slung the ladle towards Harry's face with more speed than necessary; Harry guessed her potion hadn't worked as well as she'd planned, as without her glasses her depth perception was way off. He ducked his head just in time, narrowly avoiding getting slammed in the temple by the utensil.

"Whoa! Slow down!" he chastised.

She obeyed and lowered her arm, but her entire body was trembling with anticipation.

"Dad, drink it!" Lily urged. She seemed to spot McGonagall out of the corner of her eye. She spared her a quick wave. "Hi, Professor. _Dad, hurry_!"

Harry eyed the potion suspiciously. While he was inclined to give his daughter anything she asked for, he wasn't sure about drinking that potion. It was still boiling rapidly despite being far from any heating element. It smelled oddly of vinegar. Harry met Ginny's eyes hesitantly.

"Lily, your dad's not drinking anything until you tell us what it is," Ginny declared.

"It's my potion for perfect eyesight, okay?! Just—please, Daddy?" Lily inflated her eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes. She sniffled as if she may cry. Harry caved immediately.

"Okay, sure, Lulu," he quickly agreed. Ginny kicked him from underneath the table, but it was too late to change his mind now. With a deep, steadying breath, he reached for the ladle. Lily was beaming widely at him as he tentatively brought it to his lips. He heard Ginny rise to 'prepare the Floo powder for St. Mungo's'.

It tasted of slightly burnt marshmallows, which was such an unexpected taste given the vinegary smell that Harry nearly spat it back out. He had to force his rolling stomach to settle, and once he did, he swallowed the first gulp.

"Is that all?" he wheezed, eyes watering, nausea swelling.

"Yes! One sip!" Lily set the ladle on the table, indifferent to the mess she was making. She reached forward and pulled Harry's glasses off. The world shifted into blurry, colorful shapes. Harry waited.

"Well?!" Lily pressed.

Harry could see the green-and-red blob that was his wife, standing nervously at the fireplace. He squinted. He could make out the shape of the Floo container in her hands, but nothing more.

"Er…"

He looked to the pink-and-red blob that was his daughter.

"Er…maybe the blurry shapes are a _bit_ more defined when I squint?" he tried.

They clearly weren't. Lily broke down into tears.

"Damn it! _Damn it_! Merlin's massive, hairy—!"

"Lily, it's okay," Ginny quickly comforted, cutting Lily's foul language off.

" _Language_ , Lily," Harry added, for what was probably the tenth time that week. "Did it work on you? You've taken your glasses off."

She angrily reached for the forgotten ladle. Her hand landed six inches to the right. That answered his question.

"No, it didn't, and I'm _very upset_!"

"There's no need to be upset, Ms. Potter," McGonagall chimed in. "You've gotten further making your own potion than most adult witches will in their entire lifespan. You should be proud. Keep working on it."

Lily sniffled. She rounded the table and sat in the chair on McGonagall's other side, looking up at the woman like she held the secrets to the universe itself.

"Will you help me?" she pleaded.

McGonagall looked equally taken aback and flattered by Lily's desperate plea.

"I wish I could, Lily," she answered. Lily smiled at the usage of her first name. "I regret to admit that I'm not an expert when it comes to potions."

Lily sighed. She crossed her arms on the tabletop and then buried her face into them, her hip-length hair fanning out across the table and the Chess board. The Chess pieces scattered as the red tendrils invaded. Albus cried out in horror.

"No! Our game!" he groaned. " _Lily_!"

"I think it might be time for a haircu—"

" _No_!" Lily shrieked, quickly raising her head. She stared at Ginny with wide eyes. "No! _No_! I _refuse_! You'll have to chop my _entire head off first_!"

Ginny arched an eyebrow, taken aback. Harry stared at their daughter, baffled.

"Calm down, Lu. I won't force you. I just think you might be more comfortable without having to accommodate all that hair is all."

Lily gripped at her long locks. "I wouldn't be, Mum."

"Okay, fine." Ginny's voice was cool. Lily looked pointedly away from her mother and _hmph_ ed.

"Well, I should be getting back," McGonagall said. She stood and pushed her chair back in. "Thank you for the tea, and Albus, thank you for the chess match. We can continue it at school."

Albus nodded. He still looked peeved about Lily sending the pieces scattering. Harry rose.

"I'll walk you out," he offered. McGonagall nodded. He fell in line beside her as they walked from the house and back out into the garden.

"You've got everything in order for the first day of lessons?" she asked.

"Yeah—well, almost. I've got a few more lessons to write and a few more things to put away in my office and classroom. I'll Floo back tomorrow and finish up."

"If you and Ginny would consider—"

"No," Harry interrupted, as politely as possible. He retained his firmness, though. "No. As much as I'd love to be the Gryffindor Head of House and as much as I'd love to be living at Hogwarts again, Ginny and I are settled here. I've got a garden, we've got about a dozen cats that wander to and fro because the kids and Ginny keep feeding them…" he trailed off. "Thank you for offering it to me, though."

"And Ginny still refuses Rolanda's position?"

Harry felt a flash of frustration. " _That_ you'll have to ask Ginny herself. She's being cagey about it. One day she says 'oh yes, it'd be wonderful to take over from Madam Hooch' and others she says 'I quite like what I've got going on at the _Prophet_ '." He _tried_ not to sound pouty. But he preferred the idea of his wife working at Hogwarts with him, too. He was a bit anxious about starting work somewhere that she wasn't. He hadn't had to work without her since she joined the _Prophet_ , over seventeen years ago now. "Have you asked anybody else?"

"Not yet, but I'll have to if I don't receive an answer soon."

She came to a stop at the apparition point. Harry nodded.

"I'll try and talk with her again. Thanks for coming by, and thank you for helping with James."

"Of course. He's incredibly bright—he's precisely what you could've been if you'd been granted a normal childhood."

He laughed. "Nah—Ron was a bad influence. We would've skived off and put off homework until the last minute even if I'd been a normal kid. Albus…well, his work ethic mimics mine more closely."

"Ah, yes." There was a pause. "I loathe to express anything negative about any child's sorting, simply because I know what a sensitive subject it often is, but I have to admit…not a day passes that I don't wish my house had gotten the full Potter set."

Harry smiled. "Slytherin is certainly lucky to have Albus. And Scorpius Malfoy."

"Oh yes, the professors talk. Word is Scorpius Malfoy has a heart of gold."

"The word is right. I never thought I'd say this…but Draco Malfoy did a decent job."

McGonagall cracked a smile. "My, my, fatherhood has softened you, Potter. It suits you."

He grinned. "Thanks."

"Make sure to tidy your classroom up before term starts. And keep an eye on that daughter of yours. My instincts tell me she's up to something more than she says."

* * *

 

Albus was finishing up his breakfast when Harry returned to the kitchen. Harry sat beside him and pulled one of his many unopened letters over in front of himself, resigning himself to the fact that he'd _have_ to reply to all of them before he officially resigned as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He'd only managed to read half of the first when somebody shot out of the Floo. Harry turned, expecting to see Luna and her family (as they'd made plans to come over prior in the week), but it was a red head that greeted him instead of the assumed blonde.

Ginny came into the kitchen at the sound of the arrival. She beamed.

"Charlie! What are you doing here?" She hurried over to help him brush the soot from his jacket. "Aren't you due back in Romania?"

"Hi, Ginny." Charlie pulled Ginny into a short hug. "I need to speak with your husband."

Harry tried to keep from feeling terrified, but the eldest two Weasley brothers were still extremely intimidating to him, even after all these years. And it was even _worse_ now because he knew Charlie was about to be angry with him (if he wasn't already).

"No leads," Harry greeted, figuring it'd be best to get that out of the way. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I personally went back to the campsite with five of our best Aurors and we can't find any trace of it."

Charlie threw himself down into one of the kitchen chairs with a groan. Albus had risen to put his plate in the sink, but Harry spotted him slyly reaching for the sponge instead, clearly to give himself an opportunity to eavesdrop. Albus never voluntarily washed dishes. Harry glanced back at Charlie.

"I can't go back without it," Charlie said. He was terribly upset. Harry froze, worried that he'd start crying and that Harry would be obligated to try and comfort him, but Ginny quickly sat beside her brother and began patting his arm a second later.

"I just don't understand it," Harry admitted. "There were no other wizards at Shell Island when we were there. But if a muggle had stolen it, it'd be in the headlines by now! "Wales Tourist Discovers Baby Dragon" _—_ that wouldn't go unreported."

"Well, it didn't just get up and walk away. It's severely handicapped." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have gone on the trip. I thought it'd be okay, as long as I kept the injured ones with me and tended to them. I never imagined that one would be taken. Certainly not the Antipodean Opaleye. And if he _did_ wander off, that's it. He'd never have survived."

"Don't be so sure," Ginny said. "Sure—he's tiny, unfortunately submissive, he can't breathe fire, _and_ he's blind—but I'll bet he's plucky, too!"

"You had _dragons_ at the campsite?" Albus blurted. He turned around. He was gripping the sponge so tightly that soapy water was sliding down his sleeve. "On our muggle holiday?!"

"Three. In my tent."

Albus's mouth made an _O._ He seemed to realize Charlie wasn't going to offer much more information because he quickly turned back to his previous task.

"I was thinking," Charlie began. "You don't think…Fred and Roxanne knew I had them in my tent, do you?"

Harry hesitated.

"I'm not sure how they would've. None of us knew except Hermione and Bill, and they wouldn't say. I'd hate to think that Fred or Roxanne would steal a dragon, Charlie."

"I doubt they would, too. But I think we ought to stop by—just to talk to them. Maybe they saw something. Those two always know everything about everybody."

Harry sensed he wasn't going to get out of accompanying him. He desperately needed to tend to the last of the letters, but family trumped all—always. And Charlie _did_ seem terribly heartbroken.

"Okay. Sure. Let's go now."

Charlie exhaled, relieved. "Okay. Brilliant. Thanks, Harry."

"Of course. We're family. It's what we do, right?"

"Right." Charlie gave a small smile. He pulled Ginny in for another hug once they'd all risen. "You always were the best judge of character, Ginny."

"I hope you find your dragon."

Charlie went first, calling out _George and Angelina Weasley's house_ before disappearing into the flames. Harry hung back.

"Thank you," Ginny told him. Albus made a gagging noise as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Harry's. Harry wished he could've stayed there intertwined with her all day.

"There's no way Fred and Roxanne took that dragon. My money's on the other two. I bet they ate it," Harry said.

"I was wondering that myself…but still. Humor him, yeah? For me?"

"Always for you," Harry promised. He grabbed her left hand and gently turned it, so he could peer at her wristwatch. He frowned—it was later than he'd expected. Luna would be there for lunch with the twins at any moment. "Look—why don't I collect Scorpius and Nora while I'm running around?"

She parted her lips to argue, her eyes flickering to the stack of unopened letters on the table, but Harry quelled her words with a kiss. For a moment, he was overcome with love, to the point that he couldn't speak nor move—only stare at her like a starry-eyed idiot.

"You shouldn't have to cut your afternoon with Luna short," he finally said. He slid his fingers down so he was gripping her hand. "She's been gone all summer. And this makes more sense. I'll swing by while I'm out and about, get Scorpius, get Nora, return here with our children's counterparts. Simple."

 _Let me say I love you in a different way_ , he found himself thinking. At the core of himself, he was still a lovesick sixteen-year-old, desperately taken with Ginny Weasley. Desperately trying to get her alone, to show her the depth of his fondness, to sit near her brightness. (And even though he never would've admitted to her nor himself…there was still a jealousy monster in his chest that wasn't keen on the idea of her going to Dean Thomas's house).

"What about Aster?" she wondered.

"Her mum's bringing her by in the morning. I've already told Lily. She handled it…well enough."

In actuality, she'd stamped throughout the house for nearly an hour, complaining about how _lonely_ she'd be tonight because _James_ and _Albus_ would have their guests over. Harry had promised her that she could hang out with him and Ginny…but she hadn't seemed reassured.

"Dad," Albus interrupted. Ginny must've put him to work for penance for his eavesdropping; he'd washed nearly half of the dishes from breakfast in the time Harry had been conversing. He impatiently set a cup onto the draining board and walked over. "Can I go with you? I have something for Scorpius's dad."

"Something for his _dad_?"

"Yeah. A book on football. Can I go?" he pressed, impatient.

"No, I don't know how long I'll be investigating with Uncle Charlie; you'd better stay. But I can deliver that book if you like."

Albus frowned. "Fine…let me go get it. Don't go until I'm back!"

"Cross my heart— I won't."

Harry waited patiently for Albus, and once he had the book in hand, he set off for George and Angelina's house.

* * *

 

It was nearing dinner before he made his way to Malfoy Manor.

He'd ended up running around the country with Charlie, checking in on anyone he suspected of dragon theft. With every passing minute and exhausted suspect, Harry became more and more convinced that one of the other dragons had done away with the missing one, but he didn't have the heart to tell that to Charlie. As he leaned tiredly against one of the columns of Malfoy Manor, he found himself counting down the minutes until he'd be done with his current job. Until he could go home to Hogwarts.

"Hello—oh," Draco Malfoy's grey eyes widened in surprise. "Harry. I was expecting Ginny."

Harry couldn't blame Draco for his reaction. He'd be disappointed if he'd expected Ginny and it was somebody else, too. But he was exhausted and not in the mood for small chat.

"Hello to you, too. Has Scorpius got everything packed?"

"Yes. I'll call for him. Come in."

Harry followed Draco into the echoing front hall. He felt a chill race down his spine before he could talk himself out of it; no matter how much the Manor had changed, he still heard Hermione's screams. He avoided coming here as often as he could.

"Scorpius! Harry's here!"

Draco hadn't even finished his sentence before they heard the sound of frantic footsteps. Scorpius appeared at the foot of a long, spiral staircase, out of breath and tugging along two giant trunks. He beamed.

"Hi! I'm ready! I've got _everything_ —ordered and sorted, packed and prepared, ready and waiting! Let's go!"

Harry laughed, affection quickly overriding his previous annoyance.

"Don't you want to tell your dad goodbye?" he reminded Scorpius.

Scorpius froze a few steps from the doorway. He spun around, gutted.

"Oh! I _forgot_! How did I _forget_?" He hurried over and threw his arms around Draco, who hugged him back easily. "Dad, you're the best, I'm going to miss you, and thank you for letting me go to the Potters'. Love you."

Harry didn't know when they'd started hugging—he couldn't remember ever seeing it happen before—but it was clear that Scorpius and Draco's relationship had improved over the summer as well.

"And I you. Be safe. Write me. I'll be at the first Quidditch match—good luck at tryouts."

"I'll do my very best—that's a promise!"

After another quick hug, Scorpius made another eager beeline for the door. Harry and Draco met eyes and exchanged a reluctant chuckle.

"Keep an eye on them at Hogwarts," Draco requested.

"As much as I can," Harry promised. "Ready, Scorpius?"

Scorpius nodded. And kept nodding. Harry suddenly remembered the bobble head toys Muggles used to keep on their car dashboards.

"Great. Could we use your Floo, Draco? We've got to pick up Nora Thomas and it's a pain to apparate to her house—you have to traipse through thickets."

"Sure. Follow me—or Scorpius, apparently."

Scorpius was already hurrying in the opposite direction towards the nearest fireplace. They followed after Scorpius and stepped into a pretentious tea room (with awful crystal chandeliers adorned with tiny peacocks) and then stepped up to the massive fireplace. There was room enough for Harry, Scorpius, and the trunks. Harry was two seconds away from throwing the Floo powder when he remembered Albus's gift.

"Oh! Wait a moment, Draco," he used his free hand and reached into his cloak, withdrawing the thin book from an inner pocket. "Here. Albus wanted you to have this."

Scorpius examined it curiously as Harry passed it to his father. He beamed.

"A book on football! Dad, read it so you can play football with us next time we're here, okay?"

Draco was examining the muggle book like it might bite him, but when he glanced up at Scorpius, he smiled.

"I will. Tell Albus thank you. Have a good term, Scorpius."

"You too, Dad! Or, well, you know. An at-home term. Bye!"

* * *

 

Seamus Finnigan suspiciously observed Harry and Scorpius over a cup of what smelled like disgustingly black coffee. Scorpius sighed.

"Hello, I'm Scorpius Malfoy, I'm _not_ the son of Voldemort, I've _not_ been forming a cult with Albus Potter, and the only time I've ever been around dark magic was the time I accidentally found this weird hand thing in the basement that my dad didn't even know was there. It was terrifying. I had nightmares for a week. And, well, okay, I guess there was that thing with Delphi but in my defense, I never wanted any part of it and—"

Harry set a reassuring hand on Scorpius's shoulder. Scorpius quickly stopped talking.

"Seamus," Harry began, "Scorpius is a family friend and that's not a title we take lightly. I know you're worried about your…" he trailed off, never really clear on what the dynamics were inside the Thomas house. Harry knew very little—only the bare facts: Dean Thomas's wife of only a year died seventeen or so years ago, Seamus moved in when Nora was only a few weeks old to help Dean recover from the loss and care for Nora, and he'd never moved out after that. "Your…Nora."

Scorpius, on the other hand, seemed to have no filter.

"What does Nora call you? If you're both her dads?" he asked, innocent and curious. "Dad One and Dad Two? Dad A and Dad B? How do you decide who's A and who's B…"

Seamus's cheeks pinked. Well, that answered that question.

"Er…"

"Scorpius, if I remember correctly, Nora calls them by their first names. Right, Seamus?" Harry said.

Seamus shot a grateful look at Harry. "Yeah, she does. Dean and Seamus. She's always done…never could get her to use _dad_ or _papa_ or anything like that."

" _Cool_ ," Scorpius breathed. Harry had a feeling he was imaging calling his dad _Draco_ and loving every second of it.

Scorpius looked like he had plenty of other questions brimming on his tongue. Seamus was rescued from them by the appearance of Nora (tall, lithe, poised, her dark hair tied up in its usual bun) and Dean (unfairly handsome, paint staining the cuffs of his West Ham shirt, grinning broadly). Seamus rose immediately and went to help Nora with her trunk.

"Harry!" Nora smiled. She let her trunk fall to the floor—Dean and Seamus barely managed to scramble for it and grasp the handle—and then approached Harry, fist push outwards. Harry hesitated.

"I may've forgotten…just joking with you!" Nora beamed as he pressed his fist to hers and then met her high-five. It was the 'secret handshake' little eleven-year-old Nora had invented for the Potter parents the first time she'd met them, and it'd yet to die off.

Nora blinked at Scorpius. "Oh, hello. Scorpius Malfoy, right?"

"Right." Scorpius took a deep breath and began reciting. "I promise I'm not the son of Voldemort, I'm not starting a cult with Albus Potter, we were _only_ playing football with the muggle children, I have never done—"

"Dean, did you hear that? Albus and Scorpius play _football_ ," Nora interrupted, directing that revelation to her father. Dean perked up.

"Yeah? Really?" He approached the table and sat across from Scorpius eagerly. "What position do you play? Friendlies or on a league?"

"Friendlies, I think? Just for fun! We let anybody play. We had a ninety-year-old Muggle woman playing last time!"

"Wow! What position did she play? Was she any good?"

As Dean and Scorpius shared football stories, both seemingly thrilled to get to talk to somebody else about it in the football-ignorant Wizarding world, Seamus seemed to soften up to Scorpius. He stopped shooting him uneasy looks and focused instead on prodding at the wonky wheel of Nora's trunk with his wand. When it came time to leave, Nora hugged both Seamus and Dean.

"Love you both, I'll write weekly!"

"Be safe," Dean said.

"Have fun!" Seamus added.

"But not _too much_ fun," Dean amended sternly.

"Nah, have _too much_! Blow something up!"

"Seamus!"

"Blow something up _safely_ ," Seamus corrected.

Nora laughed. She leaned forward and kissed them both on the cheek.

"Right—I'll do all of that. Be safe, have fun, not have too much, have too much—got it."

It was impossible to squeeze all three of them plus the two teenagers' trunks into the Thomases' narrow fireplace, so Harry sent both kids on one and at a time.

"Thanks for having Nora over _again_ ," Dean said, before Harry stepped into the Floo for his turn. "She and James are a bit inseparable."

"It's no problem, it's no trouble. We're all quite fond of her," Harry reassured him.

"Give Ginny my love!" Dean added.

"Sure thing," Harry said. "Bye."

He threw the powder down with a bit more force than strictly necessary.

* * *

 

The kitchen was full of warmth and conversation when Harry tumbled from the Floo. Ginny was hugging Scorpius, Nora and James were kissing as if they hadn't seen each other in years, and Lily was making what looked like flower crowns at the table with Luna. Harry could hear the sound of Luna's twins romping about in the garden. He prayed Ginny had put up wards around his plants.

"Where's Albus?" Scorpius asked brightly, turning around to examine every face. He frowned when he failed to spot his boyfriend.

"He didn't expect you for another hour. He's in the shed with his aunt Audrey." Ginny reassured him. Scorpius turned and took off towards the door. Ginny and Harry met halfway; he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Dean sends his _love_ ," Harry mumbled into her hair.

"Oh, how traumatizing for you," Ginny said dryly. She pulled back and reached up, gently cradling his face in her hands. She studied his eyes with faux seriousness. "How are you handling that disaster?"

"With slight bitterness. What's Audrey doing here?"

"Putting her ex-mechanic skills to good use."

"Sirius's bike?"

"Sirius's bike." Ginny nodded.

Albus must've heard the loud commotion in the kitchen and surmised that the guests had arrived, because when Scorpius pulled open the kitchen door, Albus was on the other side. He looked as if he'd been bolting towards the house—he was slightly out of breath—and he was _covered_ in motorbike grease and dust from the shed, but neither of them seemed to mind. With simultaneous hoots of glee, they pulled each other into a fierce hug, their faces pressed into each other's necks. Somehow, that one hug seemed more intimate than James and Nora's current snogging did; Harry averted his eyes and turned back to Ginny, who was staring at James and Nora in disgust. Now that Harry glanced back at them, he noticed that they were indeed being everything _but_ discreet.

"James! Nora! Get a room!" Ginny said.

James pulled back from Nora. "The kitchen _is_ a room, Mum."

" _Your_ room!"

"Okay, Ginny," Nora agreed easily. She grabbed James's hand and pulled; he barely had time to grasp the handle of her trunk before he was being yanked up the staircase. Harry hesitated.

"Should we...do that? Send them up there? Alone?"

"Yeah—we won't have to look at it that way. Merlin, that's still so _weird_. I swear he was five-years-old yesterday."

"I feel like that about all of them," Harry admitted, after shooting another glance towards his second son, who was slyly sneaking from the house with Scorpius in tow. Harry looked back at his wife and lowered his voice. "Thank goodness Lily's still our baby."

Ginny pursed her lips.

"Yeah…right…" she averted her eyes.

Harry's heart _plummeted_. The force of it left him weak and shaken.

"What?!" He reached forward and grasped Ginny's arms, panicked and not thinking clearly. "Gin—what? What do you mean by that tone?"

"What tone?" she asked innocently.

"That—that knowing tone!"

Ginny looked towards Lily and Luna, to make sure Lily was still wrapped up in another conversation, and then she reached down, placing her hands consolingly over top of Harry's.

"She doesn't have a boyfriend or anything like that. I just mean…well, it's only a matter of time. She's got a bit of a posse, have you noticed? James says she's got a different boy in every subject who carries her books for her after each class."

Harry was not comforted. "But…but…she's…" _my little girl_.

"She's certainly not in need of protection from thirteen-year-old boys who carry her books. Don't be like my brothers were to me, it was tiring and insulting."

He gaped. "I can't just _not be like that_ — and your brothers were _right_ to worry about what you and I were getting up to!"

"And did ' _what we were getting up to'_ hurt anything or anybody? Least of all _me_?"

Harry stared. "W-well, no, definitely not, but—"

"Then it's settled. You won't involve yourself in Lily's love life any more than you involved yourself in the boys'."

His shoulders relaxed. "Oh, okay, I can agree to that. Because we both invested a lot of time into meddling in their love lives."

Ginny grimaced. "In retrospect, I would not have worded my ultimatum that way. What I mean is…we'll hold her to the same standards as them, no more, no less."

" _Fine,_ but what if I don't like them?"

"Who?"

"Whoever she decides to date?"

"Harry, let's be honest—will you like _any_ of them?"

"Maybe," he defended. "If they're very nice, respectful, and would put their lives on the line for Lily at any given moment."

"Oh my," Ginny commented. "We're going to have a lot of work to do on your perceptions of what a _normal_ boy is willing to do for others, aren't we?"

She walked over to the window, where Lily's owl Scout had just landed. Harry trailed after her.

"But say that she gets mixed up with the wrong boy—" he continued. He was interrupted by Ginny's palm, settling lightly over his lips.

"Let's talk about this when we're alone," she said pointedly. Harry glanced behind himself and saw Lily squinting their way from behind her glasses.

"Here, Lily," Ginny said. She crossed over and dropped the letter down in front of their daughter. Lily glanced at it and then promptly shoved it down the front of her shirt. Ginny arched an eyebrow. "Something you can't open in front of the family?"

"No," Lily defended. "It's something I don't _want_ to open in front of the family. Dad, did you find Uncle Charlie's dragon?"

"How'd you know about that?" Harry demanded.

"Albus told me! So did you?"

"No. Nothing, unfortunately."

"Oh," Lily slumped, disappointed. "Well—maybe it'll turn up!"

"Yeah. Maybe." He sat down on Lily's other side. Ginny sat beside Luna. "So, Luna. How was your holiday?"

* * *

 

He and Ginny lay flat on their backs in bed, side-by-side, staring up at the ceiling. Between the loud conversation and laughter coming from Albus's room, the music blaring from James's, and the strange explosions coming from Lily's, sleep would be impossible.

"We could cast a silencing charm?" Harry suggested, even though he knew neither of them would ever do it. They were too paranoid, even now. Too worried that somebody might sneak into the house to harm their children, and they couldn't protect them if they couldn't _hear_ them.

"We _could_ , but then we'd just lie awake all night worrying."

"As usual, you're incredibly right," Harry sighed. He rolled over onto his side, facing Ginny. Her wet hair had left a halo of dampness beneath her head. One benefit to the guests (and whatever Lily was up to) was that nobody was coming to look for them—he'd gotten to shower with Ginny without fear that one of the children would catch on. And that'd been lovely, and the privacy had been grand. But he would've appreciated some silence now.

Ginny turned over to face him, too. She wedged her left hand between her face and the pillow.

"So tell me about what happened with Charlie."

Harry slid over, breaching the small distance between them. He pressed a hand to her lower back and pulled her over into his arms. He pressed his face into her damp hair and inhaled the flowery scent of her shampoo.

"Nothing happened. We went to anybody who would have reason to steal a dragon and found nothing. I feel really bad for him—did you know he's been caring for the missing dragon since it was an egg? He was there when it hatched and has spent every minute with it since. Honestly, it's like his _baby_." Harry thought about his children. He remembered what it was like to wake and find Albus missing all those times last year, the uncertainty of not knowing where he was, if he was safe, if he was hurt. Not knowing whether he'd ever see him again, or if he'd find his body somewhere, empty and broken, like all the other people he'd loved who had left him. Harry's eyes burned, his chest bloomed with pain, and he had to quickly shift his thoughts to keep from crying. He hadn't said a word about his thought process, but Ginny sensed it anyway. She tightened her hold on him.

"I wish I could help him. I can't imagine," Harry finally said, his voice a bit thicker than it ought to have been. "Or maybe I can. _We_ can."

"You're doing all you can. Charlie knows that, I'm sure." Ginny leaned back and peered up at him, her brow furrowed. "Harry…have you asked _our_ children about this dragon?"

"No, of course not. They'd never steal a _dragon._ And especially not from _Charlie_!"

"Under normal circumstances, no. But Lily is _definitely_ up to something. Did you see the way she hid that letter today? And when Luna was plaiting her hair, I saw this burn on the back of her neck—" Ginny's fingers went instinctively to the spot on her own neck— "and it looked _just_ like the burns Charlie's got all over his arms."

Harry frowned. He sat up, pulling Ginny with him. He stared at her seriously.

"You think she took it?"

"Like I said—I don't know. But it's suspicious, don't you think? The blind dragon disappears, Lily suddenly becomes obsessed with making a potion to perfect eyesight, she was _extremely_ suspicious about her hair—did you see the way she lost it when I suggested a haircut?—and then it turns out that her hair is hiding burns."

"Burn. You said there was one."

"Okay, fine, _burn._ Still."

Harry didn't want to believe that Lily would do it, but he had to admit that Ginny had a point. It did seem suspicious.

"But didn't Charlie say that this dragon couldn't breathe fire?"

Ginny frowned. "Oh, right, I forgot about that."

They drifted off into a contemplative silence.

"I guess all of these things make sense in the context of normal Lily too, though. The burn could be from the potion-making. The potion-making could be a result of her hatred of wearing glasses. Her shiftiness about the letter could be something to do with the potion…" Ginny trailed off. "And I suppose it would probably damage her trust in us if we stormed into her room, accused her of stealing from her favorite uncle, and demanded to search her belongings."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, that wouldn't be good. She'd take that really personally."

They met eyes again. There was a brief pause.

"So we're investigating, then?" Ginny surmised, a mischievous smile forming. Harry grinned.

"Absolutely. Stealthily, journalist and Auror style."

"Perfect," Ginny said, rubbing her hands together. "I love a good investigation."

He grinned like an idiot and stared at her bright smile, his heart impossibly warm. After a few moments, he felt heaviness in the pit of his stomach. It took him a moment to place it, but then he realized what'd been nagging him at the back of his mind: his impending separation from her. His smile slowly inched down. It was now or never.

"Look," Harry began. "McGonagall asked me again about Hooch's job."

"Ah, yes, that."

"Yes, _that_."

He waited. She busied herself with tracing the scar on his chest, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

"The thing is…I want _both,_ " she admitted.

"Both?"

"Right. I want to keep my job. But I'd also like to be the Flying Instructor."

"Well, unless you've hoarded another Time Turner I don't know about…"

"I've been thinking, there's always a way, maybe I could—" she froze, her eyes snapping to something over Harry's shoulder. He rolled over to glance behind himself, but before he could spot anything, Ginny was jumping from the bed, bolting for the en suite bathroom. She grabbed for something on the sink—sending various other objects crashing to the floor—and then dove straight for the tiles.

"I've got you now, you _sodding, nasty, evil, little—_ ha!" She clambered back to her feet. She was cupping her hand over the top of a glass. Harry could make out a dark, scurrying shape inside of it. Ginny slowly lifted her hand, stared at the bug inside, and then quickly covered it back up. Her eyes were wide. "Not a beetle. Cockroach! I…I think. Will you come and check?"

Harry reluctantly trudged over. He leaned over and examined the bug through the glass.

"Arg! Yeah, that's a cockroach. Flush it!"

She hesitated, lifted her hand again, and dared to bring her face a bit closer. She examined the bug intently for a few long moments.

"Right," she said, straightening. She frowned. "Not Rita _or_ a beetle."

She had nerves of steel and guts of diamond. Either that or her hatred of Skeeter had hardened her. Either way, she was remarkably calm as she carried the cockroach over to—

"Don't you dare set that free!" Harry complained.

"One of the cats will eat it!" Ginny defended. She glanced behind herself and shot him an impish grin. "I can't very well kill it now, can I? We've stared into each other's souls."

"Ugh!" Harry groaned, growing queasy. "This is going too far. We've got to do something about Rita Skeeter. I grabbed a spider off the wall yesterday and I'm pretty sure it bit me."

"Don't tell Ron; he'll never visit again," she said.

Harry watched in disbelief as she eased the window open. She levitated the glass down to the ground; Harry walked over and squinted down, just barely making out the tiny, dark shape as it immediately scurried towards freedom. Harry prayed one of the dozen cats roaming around out there would put themselves to good use.

"What was it _doing_ in here?" Harry mused aloud, shuddering again. He had one too many memories of bugs crawling over him during his time living in the cupboard under the stairs to feel all right about the bug's sudden appearance.

"It got lonely, I suppose," Ginny replied. She finished scrubbing her hands in the sink and crossed back over to Harry. She looped her arms around his waist and peered up at him, her warm brown eyes widened with faux innocence. He laughed and squirmed as she pressed her still-wet hands to his back. "Maybe it wanted to cuddle up with you in bed, Harry."

He tried to shoot her a disgusted look, but his laughter broke through before he could. He wrapped his arms around her waist, too.

"You do remember we share a bed, right? If it's cuddling with me, it's cuddling with you."

"Aw, I'd hope so. We just had a moment. I'd feel terribly offended if it left me out."

He grimaced. She laughed even harder at his expression.

"The Boy Who Was Afraid of Cockroaches."

"Don't you start that again!" Harry complained, his lips twitching. The kids had come back from their holiday making all sorts of _The Boy Who…_ jokes, thanks to George using that one multiple times on their camping trip.

"The Boy Who Complained About Me Doing This Again."

" _Gin_."

"The Boy Who Called Me 'Gin'."

He tugged her forward and pressed his lips to hers. He attempted to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back. She pressed her nose to his and stared into his eyes, her smile wide and incredibly endearing.

"The Boy Who Kissed Me to Shut Me Up and Failed."

"You're incorrigible!" He pushed and tugged her from the bathroom and then pulled her down onto the bed with him. He moved his lips to her neck, suppressed his grin as she said ' _The Boy Who Was Really Good at That',_ and soon found himself laughing with her. After a few giggling, squirming moments, she removed his glasses, set them neatly to the side, and then cradled his face in hand, moving to sit in his lap. Harry briefly registered the fact that her facial features seemed more defined than usual, but then she was kissing him and all coherent thoughts were gone for a bit…

His fingers tangled in her hair and her lips moved to his jaw. In the brief space between kisses, Harry realized what was different.

"Gin," he said incredulously. He blinked. "I think…I think my eyesight's a bit better!"

She immediately straightened, her eyes seeking his out.

"What? Seriously?"

"Yeah! I can—look!" He brought his face close—nearly close enough to touch his lips to hers again—and stared seriously at her nose. "One, two, three, four, five— I can count your freckles! Without my glasses!"

Ginny moved backward, sliding neatly off his lap. "What about from this distance?"

"One, two, three, four, five…" he was stunned. "I think Lily's potion actually did something after all! That child is a genius!"

After sharing a proud grin, Harry decided the best way to test his slightly-improved eyesight would be to take inventory of all her freckles. Unfortunately, they were interrupted by a loud buzzing noise, so intense that Harry immediately rolled off of Ginny, his hands going to his ears.

"Arg! Do you hear that?"

She was grimacing. He took that as a yes.

"WHO THE HELL JUST CAST A MUFFLIATO CHARM?" Ginny demanded.

Harry snapped his head to the right to look at Ginny. She turned hers to the left. They met narrowed eyes.

" _JAMES."_ They said at once.

"Should we…?" Harry asked.

"Merlin, no. I'm not interrupting. You can if you like, but I'd rather stay here and bask in my denial."

Harry shuddered. "No, you're right, the buzzing is preferable." A pause. "Or it could be Lily sneaking out to visit her secret dragon…?"

Ginny perked up. "Oh! Shall we lightly investigate?"

"Lead the way, Mrs. Potter," he grinned. "But lightly."

"Of course."

She took his hand in hers once he stood beside her. With wands lit up in front of them, they embarked down the dark stairs. Harry was aware of every small creak of the steps, every small breath from his wife, every muffled sound from the insects and wildlife outside. He was focusing so intently on _focusing_ that when he noticed something unusual, he almost missed it. His instincts were getting shoddy. He shot his arm out, stopping Ginny. She froze.

"Is that…"

As the engine gave an unmistakable roar, they hurried over to the kitchen window, impatiently pulling the drapes back. With wide eyes, and something akin to pride, Harry watched Albus and Scorpius speed off on the motorbike. He followed Scorpius's white-blond hair with his eyes until they disappeared from sight.

"Where the hell are they going?!" Ginny demanded. She paced from the window, lit the kitchen lights, and then peered nervously at her wristwatch. "'Traveling'—oh, that's helpful!"

"I bet they're going to that muggle pub."

"Oh—I bet you're right!" Ginny was still staring hard at the watch as if she expected it to shift to _mortal peril_ at any moment. "Those devious boys! If they just would've _asked_ , we would've said yes! They didn't need to cast a Muffliato and run away from home!"

"That's part of the fun, though, isn't it?" Harry pointed out. He was trying very hard not to grin. He didn't think Ginny would appreciate it right then; perhaps in a minute or two. "Last hurrah before Hogwarts and all."

Ginny sighed. She threw herself down into the closest kitchen chair a moment later. Her hands disappeared into her hair.

"Honestly, I think I'm just glad that they're running off to pubs now like normal teenagers. And not, you know, the past," she admitted.

He could laugh now. He gave an amused chuckle. Ginny followed suit a moment after. He sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her small shoulders, pulling her to his side. She rested her head against his shoulder and yawned.

"Let's leave them be. We'll be up all night worrying until they get home safe, but we were going to be up all night anyway."

"Fair point," she agreed. She smiled again a moment later. "Well, I hope he's having fun. I hope they're _both_ having fun. Muggle friends— I think it's just what they both needed. Friends who can view them as just Albus and Scorpius, instead of _Harry Potter's son_ or _Draco Malfoy's son_."

"I hope so, too," Harry smiled.

In the morning, they'd have to feign ignorance or disapproval. But for the time being, they could coexist there in affectionate relief. Because finally, their son was _happy_.

If Harry had any say in matters this school term, it'd stay that way.


	2. Beetles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Scorpius spend a night out with their muggle friends. Lily's boldness reaches new heights. Rita Skeeter discovers something huge-- at great personal cost. Scorpius finds home in an embrace.

He wasn’t frightened. He was—alert. He was…bursting with adrenaline. He was—

—Going to vomit. The motorbike cut sharply to the left; Scorpius let out a frightened squeal as his stomach plummeted and his body slid precariously on the slick seat. He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around Albus, gasping and panicked. He was gripping him so tightly that when they turned to the right a moment later, Scorpius hardly moved an inch; he merely swayed with Albus’s body, the material of Albus’s shirt now clenched in his fists.

“That was the last turn,” Albus shouted over the rumbling engine. “I promise!”

Right. He could let go now. No more turns. But…no, he was not going to take any chances. Better to stay put. He cautiously lifted his face from Albus’s shoulder, took one look at the blurring landscape, and immediately buried his face back into the crook of Albus’s neck. His taller height meant his body was practically engulfing Albus’s smaller one at this point, but if Albus minded, he wasn’t showing it. Scorpius felt a swell of admiration for his best _boyfriend_ at how well he was handling both operating the odd machine and not projectile vomiting.

“You all right back there?” Albus shouted.

“Yep. Yep. Fine as wine. Fine as a sublime wine in the summertime. Fine as—oh!”

He gave another start as the motorbike leaned towards the right. He was certain he was gripping Albus to the point of pain now, but he couldn’t get his muscles to relax. His legs were quivering. Albus must’ve felt his trembling because their speed quickly decreased until they were at more of a crawl. He felt a hand press against his thigh.

“Better?”

His heart did that thing—that Albus thing. Where it felt heavier than usual, fuller than usual. And it made the back of his throat feel narrower. He nodded against Albus’s neck, grateful and abruptly emotional.

“Much,” he squeaked.

The sound of the passing wind was still loud, but the sound of Albus’s pulse was louder. With his face pressed into his neck, he could hear the hard, irregular _thump, thumpthumpthump, thumpthump, thump_ of Albus’s heart. He could feel it against his chest too, pumping wildly enough that it was distinctly discernable through Albus’s back. Though whether that was from the force of Albus’s heartbeat itself or his grip, he wasn’t sure. He _was_ holding him rather closely. He probably would’ve been able to feel it even if they weren’t in the middle of a possibly deadly motorbike excursion.

Scorpius took in slow, measured breaths and focused on that weird (lovely) heartbeat until he’d stopped shaking. His body relaxed; he let go of the now-damp material of Albus’s shirt. Once he felt less frightened, he moved his chin to Albus’s shoulder and tentatively peered out at their surroundings, now inching by instead of soaring. They’d circled around all the nearby villages. Scorpius could see the quaint warmth of Godric’s Hollow twinkling just ahead. The pub they’d frequented nearly every week the past month was still a hub of activity, with blurry shapes entering and exiting the wooden doors at a surprising rate for such a small village. The Den wasn’t _strictly_ part of it; it existed on the far outskirts, isolated in the stretch between Godric’s Hollow and a neighboring village, but it was close enough to be the easiest address. And, luckily, close enough that he and Albus could frequent it often.

When they came to a gradual stop outside of the pub, Scorpius had a difficult time moving his body. Albus—still enveloped in both Scorpius’s arms _and_ legs—was chained in place.

“I think we’ve merged into one now,” Scorpius laughed, “I don’t think I can move. My legs are jelly.”

There was a brief silence. Albus’s neck had grown warmer than it was before. Scorpius felt that Albus-thing happening in his heart again, and he accidentally _tightened_ his hold. _No_ , he chided himself, _no, no. Wrong, Scorpius. You’re meant to be letting_ go _, not hugging_ tighter _!_

Before he could scold himself much further, Albus wormed his way from Scorpius’s grasp, stood, kicked down the side stand to park the bike, turned, and then sat back down in the opposite direction, so he was facing Scorpius, his back now facing the handlebars. Scorpius stared curiously at him—in the dim, orange light flooding from the pub’s one exterior lamppost, he had a difficult time reading the expression on Albus’s face. His dark eyebrows were furrowed intensely. His jaw was set. Was he angry? Had Scorpius made him angry? He hoped not. He didn’t want Albus to be angry with him. He wanted him to be happy. He wanted to tell him that he was beautiful (especially right now). His green eyes were clear and striking, his hair was windswept and even messier than usual, and the way the orange light illuminated the light freckles peppered across Albus’s cheekbones made Scorpius feel distinctly tingly with fondness…

Albus’s intense (and confusing) expression grew nearer. And nearer. And suddenly Scorpius could place it, could remember the first time he’d seen it (after that football match) and then his mouth was pressed to Scorpius’s— warmly, wonderfully, his palms pressing gently over Scorpius’s cheeks, and the contrast of his boyfriend’s cool palms against his blushing face felt nearly as good as hearing the tiny sigh/gasp/groan that Albus gave as he kissed him back _harder_ …

In that moment, he forgot everything. Everything. Somebody could’ve approached them head-to-toe on fire and Scorpius wouldn’t have remembered how to put flames out. So when Albus responded with like intensity, slowly leaning forward into Scorpius’s body, Scorpius completely forgot that they were sitting on the motorbike. He completely forgot that there was nothing but empty space behind them. And when he leaned back to accommodate Albus’s leaning pressure, he lost his balance and went flailing off the side of the motorbike, Albus tumbling down with him.

They hit the ground hard. Scorpius very narrowly missed hitting his bicep on the burning exhaust pipe. He groaned and struggled to regain the breath that’d been knocked from him, Albus’s body heavy and equally stunned atop his. 

“Hey, Albus…there’s…not a seat back,” Scorpius wheezed.

Albus grinned down at him. Scorpius immediately grinned back, even if his back and chest still ached from his fall onto the pavement. Albus crawled off of Scorpius and sat beside him, lifting his hands. He grimaced at his scraped palms.

“Driving back is going to be enjoyable,” he said dryly.

Scorpius sat up. He scooted forward, carefully taking Albus’s hands into his. He bowed his head over their joined hands and peered critically at the soft, torn skin. Why did Albus always seem to be covered in blood after they kissed? A curse?

“It’s serious,” he told Albus. He was grinning, though, never quite able to master the art of sarcasm like Albus had. “You’re going to have to have your hands amputated!”

“Well,” Albus commented, “at least then I could keep my hands to myself.”

“But I don’t _want_ you to keep your hands to yourself.”

Albus flushed. He bit back a shy smile. Scorpius beamed and inched closer.

“Though,” Scorpius said fairly, “it might be best if we only kiss on stationary, stable objects.”

Albus scoffed in mock-offense. “All these limitations in my life—‘you can’t buy a dog to take to Hogwarts, Albus’, ‘you can’t cut your sister’s hair no matter how often she smacks you with it, Albus’, ‘you can’t kiss your boyfriend on a parked motorbike, Albus’. What _can_ I do?”

Scorpius leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Albus’s. They were both smiling when he leaned back.

“That. You can do that. We’re on solid ground, see.”

Albus fidgeted, clearly delighted. “Right. We are indeed.”

“Solid, solid ground,” Scorpius said, smacking the pavement with his palms. “It’s not going anywhere. Unless there’s an earthquake. But that’s not likely because we’re not over any faults.”

Scorpius knew Albus hadn’t taken in a word of that. If he quizzed him on it later, Albus would certainly not remembered having heard the word _earthquake_. He had that glazed over look he often wore in History of Magic. He was inching forward again—

“Are you boys all right?!”

They snapped their heads to the left, staring up at an obviously drunk Muggle woman in her late sixties. She was vaguely familiar-- a pub regular. She swayed, stumbled, and then quickly reached to hold onto the pub doorway. Her disheveled appearance suggested she’d been in the close company of somebody else, but she was alone now, her blue eyes squinted in confused concern at Albus and Scorpius from behind glasses with gaudy rhinestones.

“Have you been in an accident?” She turned her eyes from the bike and to Albus. She squinted harder. “Hang on—are you one of the Potter boys? Jim? John? Jack?”

“James?” Scorpius provided helpfully.

Her face dropped for a second.

“James Potter? No—he— _hiccup_ —gone off, didn’t he, and that baby son—” she grew agitated. She looked a bit green. “What—don’t confuse me! I know what sodding year it is!”

“Er…” Albus glanced at Scorpius. Scorpius widened his eyes. “He’s talking about my brother James. What’s your name? How do you…do my parents know you?”

“Well, of course he was, little James, the eldest boy. I know that, of course I know that,” she insisted. And then: “What are you two doing on the ground? Do you need medical assistance?”

“No! No, we’re okay,” Albus quickly said. He jumped to his feet and reached a blood-caked hand out. Scorpius gently grasped his wrist instead, not wanting to hurt his wound, and allowed him to pull him to his feet. The woman’s gaze was lingering and uncomfortable.

“Well,” Albus said, nodding towards the doorway, “we’re just going to go…”

“You’re Ginny and Harry’s boy. The middle one.”

Albus and Scorpius paused. Scorpius was surprised to hear Harry’s name on this drunk muggle woman’s lips.

“Er…how do you…?”

“We exchange hellos and the occasional cake,” the woman answered. She hiccupped loudly a moment later.

Scorpius looked at Albus. He was watching the woman warily.

“My parents never said they knew any of our mug—neighbors.”

“No? How rude of them, not that I’m surprised. Your mother’s got a nasty temper and your father could suck the fun from anything.”

Scorpius frowned, taken aback by the woman’s sudden hostility.

“Hey!” he cried, insulted on the Potters’ behalf. “That is not nice, and it’s not true, and it’s…not nice!”

“Yeah!” Albus snapped. “Don’t talk about my parents like that.”

The drunk woman didn’t seem as drunk as she had before. She straightened, her eyes lighting up with interest.

“So would you say your parents are supportive or aloof? Loving or cold? Firm or indifferent? Are they tormented by past traumas? Can you feel tension beneath every goodnight kiss?”

“ _What_?” Albus demanded, baffled. Scorpius stared hard at the woman’s face because he thought he might’ve seen her somewhere other than the pub, but she refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she narrowed in on Albus’s injuries.

“Oh, dear, look at your hands. You poor, fragile boy. Let me buy you a pint. We can talk. Tell me who hurt you.”

“Nobody hurt him,” Scorpius said, perplexed. “We fell off the bike, it was an accident. And I don’t think we’re allowed to have a pint…we’re not even sixteen yet…”

Not that it’d stopped them the previous time, but to Scorpius, it seemed weird and inappropriate to accompany this lady anywhere, so he’d use any excuse he had. He was _positive_ he’d seen her inside the pub the other times they’d been, but that wasn’t it...there was something familiar in the way she carried herself, even if her specific facial features weren’t familiar.

“Oh—rubbish, what’s it matter? You’d deny a poor, lonely old woman a bit of chit chat? I haven’t spoken to anybody other than my cats in _ages_ …why, I hardly remember what human interaction feels like…” she trailed off, growing dramatically teary. Scorpius’s heart reacted accordingly.

“Don’t cry! It’s okay. We can talk to you. We can talk about loads of stuff. What do you like to talk about? Do you like football?”

Her tears stopped immediately. “No, I’m not interested in football. I want to discuss family dynamics.”

“Well, okay, that’s a bit…personal and unorthodox, but I guess—” Scorpius was interrupted.

“Not you,” she said impatiently. “ _Albus._ ”

“Albus?”

“Me?”

They glanced at each other after speaking at the same moment, their lips quirking up into amused grins. Scorpius itched to take Albus’s hand, but he didn’t want to make his wounds sting any worse. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Albus’s waist instead; they continued grinning at each other. The sound of something clattering to the ground made them jump, and when they looked back, the old woman had dropped her handbag onto the ground. She was openly gaping at them.

Scorpius felt his heart sink. His dad had warned him that this might happen; he’d warned him that his relationship would inevitably cause more scorn and bullying, but Scorpius hadn’t cared because Albus was worth it. And he was realizing now what his dad had meant. The woman was soundlessly opening and closing her mouth, her eyes impossibly wide.

“What?” Albus challenged. “Is there a problem?”

Was she having a heart attack? The woman was grasping the front of her throat and making wheezing noises. But right as Scorpius began to look around to call for help, a manic smile bloomed over the woman’s face. She began cackling madly a moment later.

“Erm…” Albus took a decided step backwards, pulling Scorpius with him. “Do you…think she’s…you know? All there?”

Scorpius watched the woman uneasily. She was practically toppling over from the force of her hysterical laughter. She dropped to her knees suddenly and began rummaging through the contents of her dropped handbag, searching excitedly for something. Scorpius didn’t want a woman that unstable to have _anything_ in her hands.

“Absolutely not,” he hissed to Albus. “Let’s…back away…slowly…”

The woman spotted their retreat. She snapped her head up, chaining them in place with her eyes.

“Wait,” she said. She stared at something behind them. “Look at that!”

Scorpius and Albus turned around by instinct, peering across the street. There was a young couple walking slowly, a stray cat (one of the Potters’ strays, actually), and a flickering lamppost with a loose lightbulb. Nothing remarkable that he could see. Scorpius looked at Albus quizzically, but Albus just shrugged. They turned back around to ask—

“Where’d she go?!” Scorpius demanded.

Albus looked around them, equally baffled. “She can’t have just disappeared…”

“Maybe she went back inside!” Scorpius suggested. He edged towards the door and pulled it open, peeking in. The rowdy heat of the pub greeted him, but he couldn’t see that old woman anywhere. He looked back at Albus.

“Not there.”

“Strange. Ah, well. Shall we?”

“Definitely!” Scorpius beamed. Albus gave a sudden shudder and reached behind himself, scratching frantically at his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just had an itch,” he said. He approached and smiled. He took Scorpius’s hand. The rough texture of Albus’s palm told Scorpius his scrape had already scabbed over somewhat. He gave Albus’s hand a tentative squeeze, pleased that he could hold his hand again.

“Let’s go! Maybe our friends are here,” Scorpius said eagerly.

* * *

 

Their muggle friends _were_ there, much to Scorpius’s delight. They spent nearly two hours crowded around a sticky, too small table, laughing and pretending to be ordinary muggle boyfriends in an ordinary muggle pub with their ordinary muggle friends. They drank ordinary muggle ale—which was somehow different from any ale Scorpius had tasted in the Wizarding world and had a taste that Scorpius had initially found _repulsive_ but later found himself oddly enjoying—until everything felt pleasantly light and _zoom-y_ , and then they went outside to show their friends the motorbike. Scorpius was trying to listen as Albus and Simone talked motorbike parts, but he was too busy staring at Albus. He loved so many things about him so much. He wanted to tell him that. He wanted to say _I love so many things about you so much_ , but the part of him that wasn’t ale-soaked thought he probably shouldn’t. It sounded stupid, anyway—most things he said probably did, going by the looks he sometimes got. But in that moment, it made perfect sense to Scorpius, because he _did_. He loved the way Albus’s dimple deepened when he laughed or smiled hugely; he loved the way he scrunched up his nose whenever Scorpius said something particularly “geeky”; he loved the way he could go from hard to soft in a millisecond, how the lines of his body broadcasted how he felt about somebody perfectly, how he could go from tense and defensive at school to loose and at ease when they were in Albus’s home…how he believed in Scorpius.

“What do you think? Scorpius?”

“What?” Scorpius turned to Albus. He scrambled to think, to see if he’d processed any of the conversation that’d just occurred, but it’d been largely ignored. “I…think…that…could you repeat everything that came before the question?”

 _Muggle beverages are evil,_ he decided. Butterbeer never made him feel like this.

Albus laughed. “Josh invited us over for…”

He trailed off, his brow furrowing. He glanced at Josh.

“Fallout 5,” Josh supplied. He grinned. “I still can’t believe that your mum and dad don’t let you use technology. How do you…talk to people?”

“Letters.” Albus stepped to the side, pulling Scorpius with him. “What do you think?”

Scorpius had no idea what a Fallout 5 was. It sounded a bit dangerous. But Josh and Simone seemed relaxed, so it couldn’t be too bad.

“Sure! I’d love to do Fallout 5!” He beamed as Josh and Simone laughed. Once they left to use some sort of muggle transportation, Scorpius quickly grabbed Albus’s arm. “Albus…Fallout 5 isn’t…a _drug,_ right?”

Albus looked distinctly troubled.

“I really don’t know, Scorpius. I just nodded and smiled.”

Scorpius sucked in a nervous breath. “Oh, Merlin’s pants.”

“Yeah. Well—time to muster some courage. Hopefully whatever it is…it won’t be too dangerous.”

* * *

 

It was not a drug. It was a box. A black metal box that sort of looked like a vertical school book. It seemed to be humming.

Albus let out a relieved sigh. He reached over and grabbed Scorpius’s hand reassuringly.

“It’s fine! It’s _video games_. That box— _that’s_ the thing I was telling you about that Dudley sent! The thing that James got so obsessed with that he didn’t eat or use the toilet for an entire day! And then Mum threw it from the house and called it an ‘evil, brainwashing box’ that she ‘never wanted to see ever again’!”

Scorpius still didn’t really understand, but he was glad that Albus was so excited.

“Great! Cool! What’s a video game!”

Albus squeezed Scorpius’s fingers. “You’ll see—it’s brilliant!”

It _was_ brilliant—and terrifying. They each took turns. Scorpius was _horrible_ at it, and the continued consumption of that strong muggle ale didn’t help. But he loved every second of their night, mainly because Josh’s mum (who bore an uncanny resemblance to the woman Scorpius missed more than anything) kept shoveling muggle sweets their way and calling him _love_ , and it made him think so strongly of his own mum that he couldn’t help but hug her before they left. He walked from Josh’s house in an odd mood—happy but aching. He was looking forward to being back on the motorbike, so he could cuddle up to Albus’s back and sit with this feeling. He didn’t really want to work through it or talk about it. He just wanted to be.

“Hey,” Albus said softly, right before they climbed onto the motorbike. He snagged Scorpius’s hand. “Back there…with Josh’s mum, I mean. Well. Are you okay?”

Scorpius nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

His chest was aching and empty. He felt like he needed the reassuring pressure of a hug, but hadn’t yet learned to ask for them. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, squeezing them tight a few times, to see if a self-hug was any good. But it wasn’t. He wanted a real hug—an Albus-y one.

Albus parted his lips and then closed them. He studied Scorpius’s eyes, his bright green ones inquisitive. Scorpius turned to climb onto the bike, hoping that’d spur Albus to do the same, but Albus’s hand refused to drop from Scorpius’s. He tightened when Scorpius pulled. Before he could turn around to examine Albus’s expression, Albus tugged on his hand and spun him around to face him, and then he hugged him fiercely with suffocating pressure. It was exactly what Scorpius needed. Albus didn’t say anything and Scorpius didn’t either; he merely held Albus just as tightly and pressed his face into Albus’s shoulder. He breathed in the scent of the Potter household: freshly brewed tea, clean linen, something woody and something flowery, and beneath that, the distinct _Albus_ scent that lingered even at Hogwarts. It’d begun to smell like home.

And as they embraced, Albus’s heart reverted to its old, irregular ways.

“Palpitation,” Scorpius mumbled into Albus’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I think you’ve got heart palpitations. While I was waiting to visit again, I read a book on heart disorders—because your heart does that thing, you know? _Thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-thump, thump_? It should be _thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump_. When it speeds up, adds beats, or skips them— that’s a palpitation. Well—broadly, anyway.”

He felt pressure against the top of his head. He realized it’d been a kiss a moment later; a warm tingle shot down from the crown of his head to the arches of his feet.

“Healer Scorpius, solving medical ailments one book at a time,” Albus proclaimed, a smile audible in his voice.

“What can I say—the books, they love me. I’m a Book Whisperer.” He lifted his face, looking seriously at Albus. “Honestly, though, we should tell your mum. About the palpitations.”

“It’s probably fine. But are _you_?”

“Am I what? Having palpitations?” Scorpius unlatched his arms from around Albus’s waist and reached up, pressing two fingers to his carotid artery. “I don’t think so…no, I’m fine.”

“No, I mean. Are you _fine_?”

“Oh,” Scorpius realized. He lowered his hand. “Yeah—I think so. Well. I sort of…just want to go home.” A beat; the words sunk in. “To—to your home, I mean. Not that I—not that I’m assuming that it’s—ours. Or—mine too. Because the Manor's my home. I just, I meant that—”

“We can go home,” Albus said firmly, a soft smile in place. “I’m exhausted, anyway. Hey…we should have asked our muggle friends…is their ale like our firewhiskey? I mean, I know it’s all alcohol, but do they have a Department of Intoxicating Substances like we do? Because, you know, we’re not supposed to apparate or use the Floo after drinking. But the muggles…they can drive, right?”

Scorpius considered that. “I very much doubt they’ve got a Department of Intoxicating Substances…look how many people run about drunk. If there were any regulations, I think it’d be better under control. Josh is fifteen, too, and he had alcohol _everywhere_ in his room, did you see?”

Albus nodded. “Yeah. He made me try that one that looked like water. Didn’t taste like water. My throat burns. Anyway, you’re right, and it just wouldn’t make any sense for it to be illegal to drive one of these after drinking,” he patted the motorbike, “because it’s not like apparating where you can’t focus and then you’ll end up splinching yourself.”

“Exactly!”

They got onto the bike. Scorpius reestablished his death grip on Albus. Albus started the bike, they pulled off onto the road…

“Whoa,” Albus said. They swerved precariously. Albus immediately stopped. “Okay. Two things.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“One: I think there probably _is_  a rule about not driving these things after drinking. Two: the clear one made me dizzy.”

“Oh, that’s not good. Because I definitely can’t drive. And it’s quite a far walk.”

Scorpius thought of the solution at the same moment Albus did. They shared a grimace.

“Oh, all right. Do you want to do it, or shall I?”

“Me,” Scorpius said eagerly, already digging into his jeans for his wand. “I’ve wanted to do this for _ages._ ”

* * *

 

The Knight Bus conductor wasn’t thrilled about the motorbike, but when he realized who Albus was, he allowed it on with them.

“Just that way,” Albus instructed, once the bike had been levitated onto the bus. “On the outskirts.”

With a horrible jolting lurch that sent Scorpius flying, the Knight Bus headed towards the Den. It was there in less than a minute, leaving Scorpius feeling a bit sheepish.

“Well, it would’ve been longer walking, and we’d have to push the bike,” he reassured Albus, when he noticed he too looked a bit embarrassed.

“All right, here we are,” the conductor said.

Albus and Scorpius dug enough dusty sickles from their pockets to cover the fare, and then they stepped out onto the lane just outside the Potters’ property. Scorpius stifled a yawn as they walked.

“I can’t wait to get a glass of water and go to sleep.”

“It’s the small pleasures for you, isn’t it, Malfoy?” Albus teased, clearly thinking of Malfoy Manor and its over-the-top ways. Scorpius laughed.

“Indeed—and luckily a glass of water tastes the same whether I get it or a house elf does.”

“I wonder what time it is now, anyway,” Albus said. Scorpius could hear a bit of nervousness weaving through his words. “I hope my mum and dad didn’t wake and try to check in on me.”

“If they woke up and we were gone, half the Ministry would be roaming Godric’s Hollow,” Scorpius reassured him. But he was feeling a bit nervous, too. At the time, sneaking out to take a ride on the motorbike had seemed like a wonderful idea—wonderful enough to have them both overlooking the possible consequences. But now he was realizing that Mr. and Mrs. Potter might actually have noticed they were gone and might actually be really worried. He hadn’t wanted to worry them. That seemed like a poor way to repay their kindness. “Still…let’s hurry.”

They made it to the garden door quickly, all things considered. They pulled their shoes off to hopefully reduce their noise, Albus pressed the tip of his wand into the sensor on the door, and then they tip-toed on socked feet into the cool kitchen. They made it past the sitting room doorway without incident, until—

“Have fun?”

Scorpius shouted, alarmed. Albus jumped into the air. Scorpius was positive that Albus’s heart was beating even _weirder_ as they turned around to find Mr. and Mrs. Potter looking right at them. They were curled up on the sofa, half-empty mugs littering the coffee table, multiple opened letters and books strewn around them. They were wide-awake. Albus and Scorpius were frozen.

“Well?” Ginny pressed. “Did the motorbike work okay?”

“I…” Albus was gaping, horrified. “I…don’t know…what you’re talking about?”

Harry snorted. He didn’t even look up from his letter.

“Albus, give us some credit. We _did_ live through a war. We fought in the war, in fact. Led it, really,” Harry reminded Albus. “We know when somebody’s creeping past our doorway— _Muffliato_ or not.”

Scorpius paused. He turned to look at Albus. Albus looked at him. Both their eyes widened. _Oh!_

“We…we didn’t cast the Muffliato,” Scorpius admitted, because Albus had gone silent in what appeared to be quiet relief. “We…er, _Albus_ thought…well. He thought that…you know. You two had. Cast it.”

His face was burning. Growing up, poring over all the books about the Boy Who Lived, he’d never once imagined that he’d one day be standing in Harry Potter’s living room, accusing him of casting a Muffliato charm so he could spend some… _time_ with his wife. His word vomit began.

“Not that…I didn’t mean that— well, I’m sure that you two—and of course, it’s simply none of our business, we just—well, we knew it wasn’t James and Nora, so—”

Harry gently interrupted his stuttering. Scorpius was glad for it.

“Wait, Scorpius, how did you know it wasn’t James or Nora?”

Scorpius blinked. “Well, because we were with them.”

“You two were with James and Nora?”

“Yeah. For a bit. When the spell was cast, James was showing me the muggle music thing that Nora brought him,” Albus explained.

For reasons unknown to Scorpius, Harry and Ginny exchanged a horrified look. Something was communicated immediately, and without further explanation, they shot up from the couch, sending papers and books flying in every direction.

“Got to go,” Harry muttered, speeding past them towards the stairs.

“Glad you two had fun, drink water before bed—you smell like alcohol and you don’t want a hangover, and we’ll have words about the fact that you two drank tomorrow,” Ginny rushed out. “’Night, boys.”

“…Night,” Scorpius said, a bit dazed. He looked at Albus. “Your house is never boring, is it?”

“Nope.”

“They’re always up to something, aren’t they?”

“Yes. It’s emotionally and mentally exhausting. But, what can you do? I’m their child, they’re my parents, and it is what it is. We are who we are.”

Scorpius smiled. They’d begun walking up the stairs, but they paused near the first-floor landing. “Why, Albus—that’s the most level headed thing I’ve heard you say since I met you.”

“Somebody must be rubbing off on me.”

Scorpius beamed, pleased.

“I hope it’s me. I hope I’m the one that’s rubbing off on you,” he said.

Quick, so quick that Scorpius wasn’t even sure if it happened (because surely his surly, repressive Albus hadn’t done it), Albus winked. Scorpius felt his stomach jolt. He went a bit dry-mouthed. A curious shiver raced down his spine.

“Did you…did you just…”

Albus’s face was glowing bright red now. Scorpius felt the ridiculous urge to fan his own face, but he couldn’t say it was from embarrassment. He found Albus so incredibly endearing in that moment that he didn’t try to stifle his emotions or thoughts at all; he let it all rush from his mouth in a nearly incoherent rush.

“Flirty. That was…Flirty Albus. Hi, Flirty Albus. I haven’t met you before. I—I’d like to meet you again. I would like you to always wink at me. Can you do it again?”

“I…” Albus trailed off, face still red as Lily’s hair. “No, the moment passed.”

“That was—beautiful.”

Albus laughed. “My _wink_ was beautiful?”

“Yes. No. What I mean is— _you’re_ beautiful.”

It came out softer and more serious than Scorpius had intended, but he meant it, so he didn’t try to pave over his words with any defensive remarks. Albus only blushed harder.

“I keep telling you, you’re the one who’s beautiful.”

Scorpius shrugged, indifferent. He didn’t much care what he was or wasn’t. What mattered to him was that Albus was beautiful and Albus was his best friend and Albus was his boyfriend.

“You’re _both_ so bloody beautiful that my soul itself is withering from the brilliance of it,” James said, appearing suddenly in his bedroom doorway. “Now will you take this nauseating conversation to your room and let me go back to sleep? Mum and Dad have been annoying all night—traipsing back and forth, whispering, laughing, making sodding graphs and charts in the hallway—no! I’m _tired_! I need my beauty sleep!”

He certainly looked bedraggled and exhausted. To Scorpius’s amusement, his pajamas were covered in multicolored broomsticks, reminiscent of a pair Scorpius once had as a child. From behind James, he could just barely make out Nora’s dark hair fanned over James’s pillow. She was fast asleep and appeared to be wearing a long dressing gown of the same pattern. Matching pajamas. They had matching pajamas. Scorpius was speechless.

“Nauseating?” Albus challenged, once he’d stopped gaping in humiliation. “Okay, _Jamie-Baby_.”

Scorpius had to bite his tongue to keep from snickering. He and Albus had made fun Nora and James’s pet names for the better part of an hour before they left for their motorbike adventure (and for good reason). _Jamie-Baby_ and _Nora-Bear_ were too hilarious to take seriously.

James was entirely unaffected. “Aw, I didn’t realize we were at that point yet, _Albus-angel_.”

“ _Albus-angel_?” Albus scoffed. Scorpius was audibly laughing now.

“Oh—I’m tired, okay? I’ll think up a better name in the morning. Just let me sleep. Please. Nora and I _tried_ to get to bed early—why does nobody respect that?”

“Because nobody believes it. You two spent all evening snogging in nearly every room in the house. Mum and Dad thought _you_ cast the Muffliato.”

James arched an eyebrow. “What? Seriously? No, it was obviously Lily. Because of the dragon.”

Scorpius’s heart lurched. He looked down at Albus, confused and lost. Albus looked just as confused as Scorpius felt.

“ _What_?” Albus breathed.

James yawned heavily. “Yeah, you know. The baby dragon she stole. She carries it around for half of the day underneath her hair. She’s quite good at it, really. You’d never know unless you _knew_.”

“ _What_?” Albus repeated, stunned. “You mean her stuffed dragon. The—the toy that Uncle Charlie gave her when she was born.”

“No. A real, living, breathing dragon. She’s named it Opal.”

“… _Why_?! Uncle Charlie’s dragon? She stole from _Charlie_?” Albus demanded. Scorpius immediately pictured the tough Weasley brother. He’d rather be hit with the Cruciatus again than steal a dragon from that man.

James yawned again. “It’s a fascinating story—perhaps if you prove to her that you’re trustworthy, she’ll tell you. Now—I’m going to sleep. Don’t disturb the missus and me until at least eight.”

“You are _not_ married.”

“We are so in every way that matters,” James said. “Goodnight.”

James shut the door in their faces. Scorpius looked to Albus.

“They’re weird,” he decided.

“Yeah. Extremely. Let’s go see if my parents found the dragon.”

* * *

 

Ginny and Harry were inside Lily’s room, but the opposite of progress was being made. Albus dragged Scorpius through the doorway of the violet bedroom. Lily was sitting defiantly on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t cast anything,” she lied. “And I don’t appreciate being disturbed in the middle of the night to be blamed for something I didn’t do!”

“I can find out what spell your wand last cast, Lily, so I’d reconsider your words,” Harry told her.

Lily wavered for a moment. She reached behind herself as if to scratch her back, but Scorpius realized that the dragon was probably perched there beneath her hair, and she’d probably just pet it. He looked at Albus. Albus was already looking at him, clearly having noticed the same thing. It was never clearer to Scorpius than it was right then: Lily Potter was gutsier than anybody he’d ever met. 

“Okay, fine,” Lily relented. “I did. But only because I was singing.”

Albus snorted. _“Here we go_ ,” he whispered underneath his breath, so only Scorpius could hear. Harry briefly glanced back at them, but didn’t tell them to leave, so Albus and Scorpius made no move to.

“Singing,” Ginny repeated flatly.

“Yes. I love to sing. It’s my hidden passion, Mum. I want to start my own band. I was practicing, but I didn’t want my brothers to _tease me_ ,” she sniffled.

“Oh, that’s utter rubbish, Lily! What are you up to? Do you know something about Uncle Charlie’s dragon?” Ginny pressed.

“Which dragon? You’ll have to be more specific; he works with loads.”

“Lily…” Harry warned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you’d like, search my room! Go on, it’s okay. I’ll help. Where do you want to start?”

“Let’s start with your attitude, Lily Luna!”

Scorpius edged backwards towards the door, embarrassed for Lily’s sake. But she shrugged off the scolding rather well.

“Mum, Dad. I know exactly what I’m doing. And I make good choices. And I believe in my choices. And if you want to search my room, go ahead. But you won’t find anything.”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. They drew closer and ducked heads, whispering back and forth to each other quickly. Scorpius heard what sounded like: _you do it, that child is_ all _you_ and _no way—it’s your turn!,_ but most of it was largely incoherent. Finally, they broke apart and turned to look back at Lily.

“We’re watching you. Don’t forget that,” Harry said.

“How could I?”

“You're innocent until proven guilty,” Ginny began. She narrowed her eyes. “But if you’re found guilty—you’ll never be as innocent as you were before.”

Scorpius wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it left him feeling frightened and urgent, as if he needed to blurt out every possible secret to Ginny Potter _immediately_. Lily squirmed and appeared shaken for the first time that Scorpius had seen. Albus caved.

“Mum, we drank Muggle ale and another alcoholic drink, we played a video game, and I tried to drive the motorbike while slightly intoxicated.”

Ginny took a few steps backwards, bringing herself in line with Albus. She reached over and pulled him in for a reassuring hug.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Thanks for being honest.”

“Okay.” Albus must’ve read the danger better than Scorpius had because he ended it with: “I love you, Mum.”

Lily panicked.

“Hey! I love Mum, too! I do! Mum—I love you.”

“And I love you both,” Ginny said, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “But I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“It’s not a lie. I really _do_ love you. If I had to pick anybody on this entire planet to be my mum, I’d pick you everytime, and—”

“You know what I mean, Lily. We know you’re up to something. And if it’s something you can’t tell us, it’s a bad idea.”

To Scorpius’s horror, Harry turned to them.

“Do you two know anything about Uncle Charlie’s dragon?”

Scorpius looked desperately at Albus. Albus looked up at the ceiling.

“…Nope. Nothing.”

“Yeah, because that looks convincing,” Ginny said dryly.

“I…suddenly really need the toilet. Bye, Mum, Dad, Lily. Night.”

Albus seized Scorpius’s hand and tugged him from the room.

* * *

 

Scorpius flung himself down onto his bed in Albus’s room face-first. He yawned into the blanket.

“Bed. Glorious, glorious bed,” he groaned. “Wonderful Potter bed with its Potter-smelling bedlinens. Oh—and my very own Potter to go with it.”

Scorpius was smiling as he felt Albus fling himself beside him. He rolled over onto his side, pleased to find that Albus had already done the same. Albus looked almost as tired as Scorpius felt. He reached forward and gently touched the darkness beneath Albus’s eyes.

“Will we be in trouble in the morning?” Scorpius asked. But his words were soft, and he felt like he was really asking more questions than just one.

“No,” Albus reassured, his voice equally quiet, and Scorpius felt like he was answering more questions than just one.

Without any further discussion on the matter, they moved up to the top of the bed, slid beneath the covers, and rested their heads side-by-side on the pillow. Scorpius could feel a comforting warmth radiating off of Albus’s body. He shifted closer and closer to it until the sides of their bodies were touching. He smiled up at the dark ceiling. It was nice—no, nicer than nice. It was perfect. He shut his exhausted eyes. He listened to the close, quiet sounds of Albus breathing, felt the softness of his skin every time he shifted. He wanted very much to rest his ear over his heart, to see if it had finally calmed down after a long day, too. But he was afraid to do too much too fast. He was afraid he’d do something to make Albus leave. So he let out a long, relieved sigh and said instead:

“I really missed my mum today.”

One sentence brought him closer to Albus than if he’d actually rested his head on his chest. Albus shifted. The blankets rustled as he turned over to face Scorpius. Scorpius didn’t look at him, but he could feel his eyes on the side of his face.

“I know,” he finally admitted, and even though Scorpius hadn’t known it before, it was exactly what he’d needed to hear. He turned over onto his side, too. He dared to slide just a bit closer. He could feel Albus’s breath against his lips. He could smell his cinnamon toothpaste.

“But being here feels safe, like being with her always felt.”

It was possible that the words wouldn’t make sense to Albus. But then Scorpius remembered the look of adoration he sometimes saw in the Potter parents’ eyes when they looked at Albus, and he knew that he probably did. There was nothing more comforting than the infallibility of a parent’s love. Scorpius knew that well.

“I’m glad,” Albus whispered.

And, to Scorpius’s glee and amazement, Albus scooted closer to him. His arms went around Scorpius. Scorpius gripped him back. He would’ve liked to have catalogued the moment, but he slipped off to sleep the moment he allowed himself to. It was the first time he’d fallen asleep in somebody’s arms since the night he told his mother goodbye.

* * *

 

Scorpius woke before Albus. He stretched, turned over onto his side, and tiredly watched a beetle crawling along the outside pane of the window above the bed. He followed its dizzying movements until his eyes got heavy, and then he looked down at Albus. He was still deeply asleep, and his lips were parted, and Scorpius surely wasn’t going to disturb him. He slid down and basked in the warmth their bodies had left on the sheets until he heard a knock on the door. He was so relaxed that he couldn’t find it in himself to get up.

“Yes?”

“Al? Oh—sorry!”

The door shut as quickly as it’d opened.

“It’s okay!” Scorpius hurriedly said. “You can come in!”

The door reopened. He was regarded with fond brown eyes.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” Ginny explained to him. “I just wanted to let you two know that Harry and I are leaving. I’m going to help him get his classroom set up. We’ll probably be back around dinner; Harry’s got breakfast downstairs and lunch made. Have you purchased everything on your list?”

“My dad and I went last week,” Scorpius said. “I’ve got everything!”

“Great. If Albus asks, tell him Harry and I are going to finish getting all his things while we’re out. I’ll see you both later.”

“Bye, Mrs. Potter—Ginny—Albus’s mum.”

 _Great_ , Scorpius thought. _As if this conversation wasn’t awkward enough already. Pick a name and stick with it._

But, of course, she smiled. “Bye, Scorpius, Albus’s boyfriend.”

Scorpius felt a rush of affection. He laughed, delighted.

“Bye,” he smiled.

He settled back down beside Albus once the door was shut. He marveled at how deeply Albus could sleep—he hadn’t shifted once yet, not even during Scorpius’s conversation with Albus’s mum. Good. Scorpius felt he deserved it—sleeping in. He left to brush his teeth and use the toilet, came back, and climbed right back into bed, this time with his marked up copy of _A History of Magic_. He scanned his eyes down the rows of colorful tabs stuck to each different section, mulling over what to read first. It was the most up-to-date edition (and one of the only leather bound ones made), given to him by his dad at the start of summer. It was one of Scorpius’s most cherished gifts. With another lingering glance towards the boy sleeping beside him, Scorpius felt an abrupt rush of gratitude seep into him, and with that, he knew what he wanted to read. He wanted to reread the chapter that had changed everything, the chapter that was ultimately the reason that Albus was here now sleeping beside him. He placed his finger on the first of the bright green tabs near the very end of the book, where another historian had updated with more recent wizarding history, and settled back down into the warmth Albus’s body was radiating. _The Beginning of the Second Wizarding World: From Dumbledore’s Army to Ministry Collapse._

He was thankful for the past, of course, for more reasons than just the boy sleeping beside him. Having seen the state of the world in a universe where Harry Potter lost, he knew and appreciated better than anybody else how much Harry Potter’s and Dumbledore’s Army’s sacrifices meant. But, well. Lying there, listening to the far-off sounds of the Potter siblings laughing, his best friend sleeping peacefully beside him, nobody upset, nobody lost, nobody else dead…it all felt a bit more personal.

* * *

 

“Okay. Steady. _Steady_. Now—watch this!”

Lily—standing upright on her airborne broom, a baby dragon strapped to her chest in an actual baby carrier—was giving Scorpius a serious surge of anxiety. He hovered nervously beneath her, relieved to see that James and Albus were doing the same, all three sets of eyes watching the young girl nervously.

“Okay, Lu, we get it,” James said quickly. “You’re very cool and clever and…whatever. Just get down, all right? What if you hurt Opal?”

Ridiculously, Scorpius thought the dragon might be having fun. It was sniffing the air and almost seemed to be vibrating, like purring on a cat. Its tiny wings stretched out hopefully every few moments like it wanted to try to fly, too. But it never tried to stray from Lily’s embrace, even though it very well could have. Scorpius had to remind himself multiple times that morning that it was _not_ a domesticated pet. It was just difficult to believe that when it was napping on the Potter's sofa and he was petting its warm, pearly scales.

“I would _never_ hurt Opal—AH!”

Lily lost her balance. Scorpius cried out, alarmed, as she slipped from her broom and went plummeting. James swooped below her, catching her quickly by the middle. He set Lily in front of him on his broom and looked at her in exasperation. Albus said his Head Boy status was getting to him, and Scorpius was inclined to agree.

“Lily,” he said, “I’m going to tell you something that I heard that was really surprising to me. And I hope you think about it from time to time. Fun Danger is still dangerous. Accidentally dying because you’re being silly is just as tragic for your family and friends as dying in some traumatic way.”

Lily slid forward on the broom and away from James, like James had something contagious.

“Ugh,” she said, disgusted, her arms rising to shield her baby dragon. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Why are you saying that? Have you been Imperiused?”

“No, I haven’t! I just don’t want you to fall and break your neck, Lily! Mum and Dad left me in charge, and I don’t think they’ll be impressed by my leadership skills if they return to find themselves daughterless.”

“No…they didn’t leave you in charge…they left _Uncool James_ in charge,” Lily corrected, a mischievous glint in her eye.

James narrowed his eyes. “You take that back. You take that back right now.”

“No way…not until you return my real brother.”

James pursed his lips. With a glance across the field towards Nora, he reached forward and promptly shoved Lily from his broom. She cried out in glee, not the least bit frightened; Nora swept under and caught her with plenty of time to spare. Meanwhile, Scorpius was wondering how Lily could manage free-falling with a smile when he and Albus still sometimes got frightened too high up on their brooms.

“She’s mad,” Albus greeted, coming to hover beside Scorpius. Scorpius was guarding their tiny team’s goals. He’d decided to go for Keeper this year, after his success at football goalkeeping. “I think my mum spent too much time flying when she was pregnant with her or something.”

Nora and James began a game of _Catapult Lily_. She was in her element. It must’ve been a regular game, too, because they were calling out specific names. At All Lengths was apparently a move in which James pushed Lily from his broom at impossible heights and Nora raced across the entire length of the pitch to receive her.

“There are only two people in this entire world I’d trust enough to do that with,” Scorpius admitted, still in awe. “And even then, I’d probably wee my pants.”

“Yeah,” Albus agreed “Three people for me and none of them are James and Nora.”

During a move called Twist Turns, air caught Opal’s outstretched wings in the perfect way, and she soared from Lily’s baby carrier. Lily landed hard on Nora’s broom, clapping proudly, her eyes on the dragon. Opal, on the other hand—

“Oh, oh my, oh wow,” Scorpius commented worriedly, as the baby dragon began shrieking in what could only be described as sheer panic. Tiny puffs of smoke emitted from its mouth as it fruitlessly pumped its thin wings. Its multicolored eyes spun around frantically, searching and searching, and when it spotted Lily, it began bravely flapping its tiny wings, determined.

“You can do it! Good job! Good girl or boy! Good job!” Lily was praising.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Albus said dryly. They watched as the dragon gradually grew accustomed to the weightless feeling of flight. Its shrieks stopped, the smoke pandered off, and it flew almost gracefully right into Lily’s open arms. “This is bloody ridiculous.”

Scorpius was feeling rather moved. “Its first steps,” he said, his palm pressed over his swollen heart. “Look how proud it is.”

Albus shot him a half-sardonic, half-amused look.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Scorpius—hand still over his heart, face still wide with a sentimental smile—nodded.

“Every second,” he admitted.

Albus had told Lily that he would tell their parents the minute the dragon started getting _violent_ , but Scorpius partially doubted that it ever would. They’d yet to get the full story on how or why Lily had it, but whatever the reason, there was certainly a bond between the dragon and Lily. It didn’t act as if it’d been abducted. Rather, it seemed to feel just as safe and loved in the Potter household as Scorpius did, so he couldn’t help but hope that it would remain, as unlikely as that was.

* * *

 

They all had showers after Quidditch practice. They ate the lunch that Harry had prepared in the living room (James promising to scourgify any remaining crumbs before the adults returned) and played a rowdy game of Exploding Snap. Scorpius had nearly forgotten that they’d be returning to Hogwarts the following day until the Potter parents returned, burdened with dozens of heavy shopping bags.

“All right,” Harry said, depositing at least eight bags on the sofa beside Lily. She’d switched carriers from the chest one to a smaller one that hooked beneath her shirt; the bulge of the sleeping dragon was nearly indiscernible from beneath her intense amount of red hair. “Lily—here are all your books. Albus, James—yours are here. Scorpius, did you find the book for my class all right? We had trouble at Flourish and Blotts, they were out. We had to wait for them to bring more in.”

Scorpius nodded. “I have it, there was no trouble.” A brief flash of doubt. “Did I get the right book? It was _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts,_ right? The book set?”

“Right,” Harry reassured him.

“I still can’t believe you assigned a _set_ of books. People are undoubtedly cursing you already, Dad, and the term hasn’t even started,” James shared.

Harry frowned. “Well, the set is about the cost of a typical book, so I thought it’d be okay…”

“I like them, Harry,” Nora countered. “The illustrations are particularly helpful, and it’s beneficial cost-wise because the set is good for your entire education, first years to N.E.W.T. students.” Nora was stretched out on the sofa, her head in James’s lap, Ginny sitting by her feet. Mrs. Potter was sorting through another bag, indifferent to Nora’s feet on her lap, as if they all sat cuddled together all the time (which, actually, was possible).

“Thank you, Nora. I think so, too.”

Albus was digging through his bag, his head practically submerged. He sat up with something in hand, a baffled look on his face.

“Er…why?”

Harry glanced down at him.

“For your pet,” he explained casually, as if the cage were entirely expected. Scorpius widened his eyes. He exchanged an excited look with Albus.

“My pet? What pet? I’ve got a pet?” Albus demanded, looking around the room quickly, like an owl might come swooping down at any moment.

“If you like. Your mum, she—” Harry trailed off, catching Ginny’s stern eye. “…well, let’s just say she’s got an…animal-saving thing. So, er. Here.”

Harry withdrew two puffs of fur from his pocket, each the size of his palm, one a deep, brilliant blue and the other a cheery yellow. Scorpius stared. Was it a joke? Was it a symbolic, imaginary pet? Like Flurry? But then the yellow puffball began rolling madly around Harry’s palm, making an overexcited squeak that reminded Scorpius of laughter. The blue one was slowly prowling about as if it were cautiously sniffing Harry’s hand. Albus was speechless.

“Pygmy Puffs. I ask for a dog, and you bring me two Pygmy Puffs.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Pygmy Puffs!” Ginny defended. “They’re sweet and clever! And you can’t have a dog at Hogwarts, we’ve told you that a million times.”

Albus hesitated, eyeing the puffballs hesitantly. Scorpius _really_ wanted to hold one, so he hoped Albus would come around. Harry continued.

“And…George might’ve bred too many blue, red, and yellow this time…people are only buying the pink and purple and orange ones…and your mum _may’ve_ heard that these would have to live in the cage at the store for months due to the surplus.”

“So you’ve brought me the reject Pygmy Puffs that Mum pities.”

“No! We haven’t! Look,” Ginny pushed Nora’s legs from her lap and stood, crossing over to take the over-excited Pygmy Puff in her hands. She set it on her shoulder; it immediately nuzzled beneath her hair and rubbed against her neck. “If you don’t want them, that’s fine, you can get an owl or whatever. Just thought you might want to give it a shot. They looked so pitiful in the cages.”

Scorpius looked from Albus to Harry.

“I’ll take one,” he piped up, after a long silence. “If Albus doesn’t want both. And it needs a home.”

Harry looked relieved. “Great, here,” he walked over and set the blue one into Scorpius’s waiting hands. Scorpius thought he heard him mumble beneath his breath: _one down, five to go_ , but wasn’t certain. “James? Nora? Lily?”

“No, I’m fine,” Lily declined. “I’ve got Scout.” _And a pet dragon, but all right._

“I’ve got enough going on without a pet added in,” James said. He shot a brief, dark look Lily’s way. She ignored it.

“No, sorry,” Nora said. “A cat’s enough.”

Harry looked generously disappointed. Scorpius brought his hands up, examining the little creature. It had two tiny eyes just barely visible beneath its soft array of blue fluff. It peered back at him, gave a little squeak, and tried to scurry off the edge of his hand in a death-seeking dive. Scorpius quickly caught it in his other hand.

“Shh,” he said. He stroked the top of it gently with one finger. “It’s okay…probably. I mean, I don’t know why you’re frightened, but it’s probably a baseless worry.”

The Pygmy Puff gradually melted as Scorpius pet it. To his pleased surprise, it walked over and cuddled up to his thumb. He looked up, decided.

“I love it,” he said fiercely.

“Aren’t they special? And they are such low maintenance pets. Scourgify the cages once a week, they self-clean, they sleep through the night, and they’re perfectly content to roll around the dormitory all day while you’re in class! Just keep them with you while you do homework—that’s what I did.”

Scorpius nodded, beaming.

“Okay! What do they eat?”

In reply, Harry pulled a massive sack of something that smelled distinctly minty from a large bag on the floor.

“There you go. Lifetime supply.”

Scorpius was getting the feeling that Harry hadn’t gone to Diagon Alley with the intention of coming home with multiple homeless Pygmy Puffs.

“Okay,” Albus finally said. “I’ll try it. Since Scorpius is. But—can I have a calmer one?”

The electric yellow Pygmy Puff on Ginny’s shoulder was currently making a game of rolling back and forth through her hair as if it were a curtain.

“Unfortunately,” Harry said, “that one is a package deal with _that_ one,” he pointed at the sweet one still nuzzling Scorpius’s thumb. “Bonded pair. They won’t eat without each other.”

“Yes…that _is_ unfortunate…” Albus muttered, where only Scorpius could hear him, his eyes on the ball of energy. Scorpius laughed and slid over, so their sides were touching.

“It’ll be good—they’ll balance each other.”

Albus didn’t look convinced, but he held his hands out anyway. Ginny deposited the pet; it immediately began scaling up Albus’s arm.

“Oh, and we picked up something else,” Ginny said airily. And then, without any sort of prior warning, a person popped out from behind the sitting room door.

“SURPRISE!”

Scorpius cried out, alarmed. His Pygmy Puff jumped six inches into the air and then dove down his shirt. He spent the next minute frantically trying to catch the creature, giggling madly all the while as its tiny feet tickled him, and by the time he looked back up, he saw Lily had launched herself at the surprise visitor.

“Aster Boot,” Albus explained quietly. “Lily’s best friend. Don’t worry—they seem annoying, but they usually go off and do their own thing, so her presence is actually a blessing.”

The two girls exchanged a meaningful look after they broke apart, Aster’s hand clearly having touched sleeping Opal hidden beneath Lily’s hair, and then they set off towards the garden, conversation flowing madly between them.

“I’m going to go start dinner,” Harry said. Scorpius did a double-take; another Pygmy Puff had appeared from nowhere, this one red and perched on Harry’s shoulder. “I guess this one is helping me.”

“Eoforwine. That one is Eoforwine,” Ginny corrected.

“Oh, how on earth could I forget a name like that?”

Ginny made a face at Harry. He laughed. Scorpius caught him talking sweetly to the Pygmy Puff as he walked out, his finger stroking its fiery fur, which gave Scorpius the impression that maybe Harry had been partially to blame for the rescuing of all the Pygmies after all.

“Well,” Albus said, once they were basically alone. James and Nora were present, but they were cozily curled up together, noses buried in one of the books for Harry’s class that term. “We’ve got pets now. What shall we name them?”

Scorpius had been waiting for this moment for years. He looked down at his new pet and grinned.

“ _Bathilda_.”

“Just when I think you can’t get any nerdier, you surprise me.”

“You’re welcome,” Scorpius grinned. “What about yours?”

They watched his as it frantically climbed up the side of his head. Albus grimaced as its tiny foot pressed into his ear canal. He quickly nudged it up, so it was sitting happily atop the crown of Albus’s head. Scorpius thought it looked distinctly smug.  

“We call this one _on probation,”_ Albus said darkly.

Scorpius laughed. “Well, we’ll think of the perfect name. In the meantime…” he looked around at Albus’s bags of school supplies. “Let’s go get this stuff put away.”

He really just wanted to leave the sitting room, because he was certain that James and Nora would begin snogging any moment now. Albus was on the same page. He shot a disgusted look his brother’s way and then nodded.

“Good thinking.”

* * *

 

Dinner was delicious, fun, and went on well into the night. Scorpius was surprised at how well everybody got on—he’d been a bit worried that Nora or Aster might not like him, or might think he was the son of Voldemort, but they treated him just like the rest of the Potters did. After two helpings of dessert, they were sent upstairs to finish packing, the parents in tow. Ginny went with Albus and Scorpius to Albus’s room.

“All right,” she said, once she shut the door behind her. “Let’s talk about the underage drinking.”

“ _Damn,”_ Albus muttered underneath his breath. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

“Not a chance. With your muggle friends?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a reason there’s a drinking age, you know. In our world and in theirs.”

“Yeah—I realized that last night, actually,” Albus admitted.

Ginny perched on the edge of Albus’s bed. She began pulling his waded-up clothes from his open school trunk and folding them neatly as she spoke.

“I want you two to have fun, and I want you to do things with your friends, and I don’t care if those things are muggle things, but you’ve got to be sensible too, okay? It’s the muggle world, but other wizards and witches can go into it just as easily as you two have. You both…I hate it, but the fact is…you’ll always have a bit of a target on your heads. Just because of who your fathers are. You can’t ever let your guard down, and drinking will do just that.”

“Sorry, Mum,” Albus relented. “We’ll be more careful next time. If it makes you feel any better, we didn’t come across anybody evil.”

“Well, except for that old woman,” Scorpius reminded Albus. “She was…unstable, in my opinion.”

“Old woman?” Ginny questioned.

“Just this old drunk woman in the pub. She was really strange. She said she knew you and Dad, Mum. Said you two exchanged hellos and _cakes_? She knew all our names, too.”

“She was rude, though,” Scorpius added. “She said you had a nasty temper and that Harry could suck the fun from anything.”

This meant something more to Ginny than it had to them. She paused, letting the shirt in her hands fall to her lap.

“What?”

Albus hesitated. “Er…what? Why do you have that look on?”

“What exactly did she say about us? What did she look like? What did you two say to her? Harry and I haven’t really been friendly with any Muggle neighbors; we’re so secluded out here that I don’t think any of them even know we’re here.”

“ _Ooh_ ,” Scorpius breathed. With a rush of understanding, he remembered why the woman had seemed vaguely familiar. Her face was all wrong—she’d probably transfigured herself a bit—but her voice and those gaudy glasses…he’d heard and seen both before this summer. When his dad dropped him off at Ginny’s office. The full implications set in and his face fell. “Oh no.”

“What?!” Albus demanded, looking between Scorpius and Ginny, panicked. “What?!”

“Rita!” Scorpius cried, horrified. It took Albus a moment, but then he gaped, too.

“Uh oh.”

They exchanged an alarmed look, both thinking about their motorbike snog. Had she seen? Or had she narrowly missed it? Even if she _hadn’t_ , she’d surely know…and _that_ must’ve been why she succumbed to that awful laughter…she’d found the ultimate scoop. _The Boy Who Lived’s Son and Voldemort’s Son: A Forbidden Romance_. They were doomed.

Ginny looked a bit frightening.

“What did she see? What did you say?” she demanded, her voice tense.

“Er…well…she…may have…seen us…kissing on the motorbike.” Albus looked like he would’ve liked to have fallen through the floor.

Ginny stood immediately.

“Where are you going?!” Albus demanded.

Ginny didn’t turn around as she headed for the door.

“Errand to run. Something to do. If you two want to do one last training session before school, meet me by the broom shed around eleven…my _errand_ shouldn’t take very long. If not, see you boys in the morning. Sleep well, love you.”

She shut the door behind herself. Scorpius gulped.

“Albus, I think your mum might kill her.”

“One can only hope. I’m not worried. My mum would get away with it.”

Scorpius watched him begin unloading his new belongings into his trunk.

“Do you…care?” he asked.

Albus looked at him. “What?”

“If people find out. About us. Do you mind?”

“Oh,” he realized. He turned to face Scorpius. He appeared to be mulling over the question. “I don’t care if people know that we’re together. But I do care if they think of it as Harry Potter’s son and ‘Voldemort’s son’ dating. I just…want us to get past that, you know? If people find out, I’d like it to just be…Albus and Scorpius.”

Scorpius was relieved. He felt better about the entire situation now that he knew Albus wasn’t ashamed of them.

“Me too. I don’t care if they know—what’s the difference? They’re going to bully us anyway. But I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m a monster.”

“I’m tired of people doing that to you, too. Because nothing could be farther from the truth.” Fierce, defensive, proud. Albus sounded, in that moment, every bit a Potter-Weasley. Scorpius wished Vann, Polly, and Karl could see him now. They’d never again accuse him of being an adopted Squib.

* * *

 

The Minister for Magic arrived sometime around ten, tumbling from the Floo right in the middle of Albus and Scorpius’s chess match. She was disheveled, her cloak torn at the sleeve, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. A moment after she stepped from the fireplace, Albus’s mum followed. Scorpius gaped. She looked like she’d been in a fistfight—a bruise was blooming over her cheekbone and her knuckles were bright red. A burn that looked like it was from a misfired hex was splotchy on her shoulder (a hole had been burned right through the cloak material that would’ve been over it). She crossed her arms defiantly after brushing the soot from her clothing.

“Hello, Hermione, Gin,” Harry greeted from the corner, barely looking up from his lesson plans.

“Harry!” Hermione Granger cried, indignant, exasperated. In a childish Rose move, she stamped her foot. Scorpius locked eyes with Albus. They both bit back their laughter. “I cannot live like this! I cannot!”

“Something wrong at home?” Harry asked, without even cracking a smile. “Because I’m sure if you just talk to Ron about it…well, lock him in a room first and _then_ talk to him about it…”

Scorpius caught Albus’s mum fighting back a smile. Harry’s lips twitched in response. Hermione scowled.

“This has nothing to do with my spouse—this has everything to do with yours!”

“Oh, so now I’m just _Harry’s spouse_? We’re no longer sister-in-laws?” Ginny demanded.

Hermione rounded on Ginny. She looked quite intimidating; her eyes were wild and her tone was edging towards frenzied.

“When I get a hysterical call from my new Head of Magical Law Enforcement, on the poor bloke’s _first day_ , pleading with me to come down to the Ministry at nine o’clock because Ginny Potter’s dueling Rita Skeeter and he doesn’t know what to do—yes, I no longer feel inclined to claim you! Ginny, _what_ were you thinking?!”

“Well, honestly, first I was going to kill her, and then I was going to—”

From the corner of the room, James began snickering. Hermione snapped her eyes towards him.

“You stop that laughing right this moment, James Potter!”

James immediately clamped his lips and sank down, startled. Hermione turned back to Ginny.

“This isn’t a joking matter! I can’t have inner-departmental feuds! I can’t work in such a hostile environment! You two are going to have to find a way to make peace, because if I get _one more_ visit from that awful hag because you’ve hexed her or set her articles on fire or bewitched her Quick Quotes Quill to write in the voice of a steamy romance novelist instead of her usual—”

“That was never conclusively proven to be me. Though, if it was, could somebody blame me? It’s the reason we were gifted with my favorite photo caption ever: _Strapping son of Ollivander sensually grips the shaft of his massive wand—”_

“Ginny!” Hermione exploded. James and Nora were in stitches. Harry was muffling his laughter behind the pages of _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts._ “What is _wrong_ with you? Why can’t you take anything seriously?”

James stopped laughing from the corner. Albus took a sharp intake of breath. Harry was rising now to involve himself in the argument between one of his best friends and his wife, his mouth in a straight line. Everybody recognized that Hermione had crossed some invisible line—even Scorpius.

“What’s wrong with _me_? Why can’t _I_ take anything seriously?” Ginny breathed. Harry reached to wrap an arm around her waist, but she shrugged from his touch, her eyes locked on the Minister. “Hermione, that woman has been harassing my family for _months_. She’s been on our property multiple times. She’s been stalking my underage son in Godric’s Hollow. And Harry and I have told both you and the _Prophet_ ’s editor this and nobody will do anything! So what am I meant to do? Honestly, Hermione, what should I do? Should I sit back and let her mock, slander, and harass my son in the media? Should I let her print photos of him and Scorpius kissing? Should I let her say whatever the hell she wants, should I pretend that it won’t have consequences, should I forget what her lies did to Harry in your fifth year, sixth year—every year? Should I forget the article she ran the day after James was born accusing him of being somebody else’s son? Should I ignore the time she cornered Lily at the muggle playground and frightened her to the point of tears?”

Scorpius wasn’t sure who the emotion was radiating off of—perhaps both of them—but he felt a sudden urge to cry. Both Hermione and Ginny looked close to it.

“I can’t—there’s a fine line when you start prohibiting people from speaking and writing freely—I understand, of course, but—”

“No, you don’t understand. And don’t pretend like you can, because it’s insulting.”

Hermione gaped, offended. “I do understand! People follow me around—follow my family around—we’re always getting harassed for photos, war stories, and it’s even worse now that I’m the Minister!”

“Yeah, but people don’t accuse Ron of being mentally unstable every month, do they? They don’t write articles about how Rose is neglected and abused. They don’t accuse you of sleeping around, or Ron of sleeping around, or both of you of sleeping around with the same person at the same time. They respect you, Hermione, even Skeeter does a bit. And I’m at a loss of what to do now—which is how Rita and I ended up dueling—”

“Fist-fighting,” Hermione corrected flatly.

“—Whatever. Somebody has to do something.”

“Fist-fighting?” Harry commented quietly, impressed. “Nice. You won, I hope?” He caught Hermione’s eye. “Er…I mean…”

“Ginny, the only thing you’re going to achieve by fighting your battles like this is punishment. You’ll get fired right alongside Skeeter.”

“Everything has a price.”

“You don’t mean that. You’re not thinking clearly—”

“Of course I’m not thinking _bloody clearly_! She’s infiltrated my home, Hermione, and I can’t figure out how or where! Imagine living like that—knowing she could be in the shower with you, or in your bedroom at night, or in your _kids’_ bedrooms! She could be in here right now for all we know!”

“No, I don’t think she’s in any state to be transforming after your fight,” Hermione reassured Ginny.

Harry slapped his palm against Ginny’s in a low high-five. Hermione didn’t notice.

“I’m…well, I’m sorry that things have gotten this bad, and I admit that I’ve been overworked and I haven’t given the proper attention to everything that needs my focus lately, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done,” Hermione carried on. “Next time, I won’t be able to smooth it over. Next time she comes crying for charges to be filed, I’m going to have to take her seriously. And it would _destroy me_ to do so, because frankly, I’d like for the nasty woman to be stepped on.”

“ _That’s what I was trying to do before you—”_

“Not at the expense of my sister-in-law’s freedom!”

“So now I’m your sister-in-law again?”

“And we both know you wouldn’t have really killed her. We both know you didn’t really have much of a plan in the first place. So that wasn’t a logical reaction, Ginny.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have actually murdered her. But I quite liked the idea of doing what you did in fourth year. I’ve got a specific jar in mind to imprison her in and everything. She could have a friend—Wanda. She could learn beetle ways from Wanda and live out the rest of her days with her. It’s a better fate than she deserves, really.”

Hermione heaved a long, harassed sigh. She pulled her fingers through her thick, wayward hair.

“Tomorrow afternoon. My office. You, me, Rita Skeeter, and the editor. We’ll find a way to handle this—legally!”

Ginny immediately backed up, falling down onto the nearest sofa. She began tending to her cut up knuckles.

“Great, that’s all I wanted,” she said lightly.

“What about me?” Harry demanded. “This is my family, too.”

“You’re going to Hogwarts, Harry,” Hermione reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He grinned. “It feels so good to hear that again.”

“Speaking of Hogwarts,” Hermione began. She turned to face Albus and Scorpius. She rummaged within her robes. “Here, a gift from Ron and a gift from me.”

To Scorpius’s surprise, he had two gifts handed to him. Both had his name written on them. He looked up, touched, startled.

“Thank you,” he told Hermione.

“Might want to open Ron’s before you thank me,” she advised warily. She smiled a moment later, though. “Stay focused this year—your O.W.L.s are very important!”

“Right. I’ll…do that, Aunt Hermione,” Albus said.

Hermione passed out the rest of the gifts. She hugged Harry and then—with some slight reluctance—Ginny. Their tense hug melted into something softer after only a few seconds, though.

“I don’t want you to be unhappy, but I don’t want you to face consequences, either,” Hermione mumbled into Ginny’s hair. Scorpius felt a bit awkward.

“Spoken like a true elder sister…sorry I ruined your night.”

“It’s okay. Ron’ll be delighted to have an interesting story at least.”

“Oh,” Ginny leaned back. “Will you tell him I knocked _two_ teeth out? It makes it sound much more impressive.”

Hermione gave a reluctant chuckle. “I’ll think about it.”

The Minister left. Albus looked back at the board, resuming their game.

“Like I said,” Albus commented. “Never a dull moment. Aha—checkmate!”

One of Scorpius’s pieces was violently knocked from the board by Albus’s. James watched, sniggering.

“That piece is Mum, and _that one_ is Rita,” he pointed at the piece lying sadly on the carpet. Scorpius and Albus laughed along with James, and soon everybody in the room was laughing.

“But,” Harry quickly said, “we don’t solve all our problems with our fists.”

“Right,” Ginny said. “We use our wands; we’re witches and wizards.”

Albus snorted. Scorpius laughed. James was looking at Ginny like she’d personally hung every star in the sky.

“No, I’m joking, your dad’s right, and so was Aunt Hermione. I shouldn’t have…I mean, well, I can’t say that I regret it—” she stopped. “Er. Don’t resort to violence unless you’ve exhausted all other options, all right?”

“Mum,” James piped up. “Sorry, but that was a four out of ten. I still feel vaguely inclined to fight somebody.”

“No, that’s fair. I deserve that. I’ll give it another go in the morning after I’ve had some real sleep.” Ginny stood. “You lot go to bed. Go up quietly; I doubt Lily and Aster are actually asleep, but I’d hate to wake them if they are. See you in the morning.”

They walked quietly up the steps, their wrapped gifts in hand. After they’d readied for bed and shut themselves away in Albus’s room, Albus rolled his eyes. He collapsed down onto his bed.

“My family’s a disaster. It’s no wonder Rita Skeeter’s so obsessed with us. We do things like smuggle baby dragons, date our father’s archnemesis's son, instigate Ministry fist fights, try to become illegal animagi…I could go on all night. I think my mum’s going about this the wrong way. We just need to make ourselves boring and Rita will stop harassing us.”

Albus reached for one of his gifts and began tearing at the paper. Scorpius hesitated at the foot of his own bed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about getting into it without Albus, but he also didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume they’d cuddle every night. Albus read his hesitation.

“Mine tonight?” he suggested. There was only a faint pinkness across his cheeks this time.

Scorpius beamed. He threw himself down beside Albus eagerly.

“Good. Nice bed,” he said. He scooted over until he was close enough to feel Albus’s warmth, and then he grabbed one of his wrapped gifts. He continued their previous conversation as he tore at the paper. “That makes sense—the whole _being boring_ thing—but how are you supposed to do that? You wouldn’t be _Potters_ if you forced yourselves to change. I think that’s sort of the point—wow! A homework planner!”

He beamed at the gift, elated. It was leather-bound and handsome; the leather was a smoky chrome color and the pages were colorful and tidy. He couldn’t wait to write his homework in it. He couldn't wait to have homework, actually, just so he’d have something to write in it! He glanced at Albus, to see what color his was, but Albus had already moved onto the other gift, the deep ruby planner lying forgotten.

“Aunt Hermione gets us homework planners every year. And Uncle Ron— _whoa_!”

Scorpius leaned over curiously. He found himself staring at a dark black box that held the inscription _W.W.W._

“My Uncle Ron usually gives rubbish joke gifts,” Albus explained. He inched the top to the box off and then cackled. “Oh, brilliant. He’s given me one of everything!”

“What’s the note say?” Scorpius asked eagerly, pointing at the folded up card. Albus lifted it.

“ _’Dear Albus, I hope your fifth year is way better than your fourth. I don’t see how it could possibly be worse, so there’s that. I hope you find these items useful as you welcome your dad to his new job. Love, Uncle Ron.’”_ Albus dropped the note and turned to Scorpius impatiently. “Open yours!”

Scorpius tore the paper off. They both hooted when they saw he’d been given an identical set of all the best Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had to offer.

“I don’t really want to use these on your dad, though. I have different uses in mind…” Scorpius admitted, his mind on Karl Jenkins.

“Me too,” Albus agreed. From the cages atop the bedside table, the yellow Pygmy Puff gave a loud squeak. “I think my Pygmy Puff agrees, too.”

“We should name it,” Scorpius reminded Albus, his eyes on the neon yellow puff as well.

“Lemon. There. Done.”

“You can’t name it _lemon—_ are you a five-year-old?”

“You named yours Bathilda, Scorpius.”

“A regal name fit for a noble pet,” Scorpius defended. “Can I name it since you won’t?”

“Sure. But don’t name it Bagshot.”

Scorpius frowned. “ _Damn_ ,” he whispered. “Fine. Let’s call it…” he trailed off. He mused, and as he did, he thought about the way the Pygmy had seemed happiest atop Albus’s head. “King.”

“King? It’s a ball of yellow fur.”

“King. It suits him.”

“Sure, all right. King. King Lemon?”

“No! Forget the lemon!”

Albus grinned. Scorpius smiled back. He felt it’d been long overdue when they both crawled beneath the covers, and this time, there was no hesitation before they cuddled up. Scorpius's thoughts strayed back to Rita. His mind had a tendency of dwelling on anxious things before sleep.

“Do you think Rita Skeeter will really stop?” he wondered.

“I don’t know,” Albus admitted. He yawned a moment later. “I hope so. No matter what, at least Rita can’t find _us_ while we’re at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah…right,” Scorpius said, but he wasn’t convinced. He had a feeling that Rita Skeeter wouldn’t be going down without a fight, and he was certain she could easily get within Hogwarts walls if she really wanted to.

But no matter what—things would be okay. He and Albus had been bullied their entire school career. They were used to it. At least they had each other, and nobody could change that. Not Rita Skeeter, not Yann or Polly or Karl. It didn’t matter what anybody said about them. Not anymore. Scorpius drifted off to sleep confident that tomorrow—and the days that followed—would be just fine.


	3. Laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny and Harry reconsider a change of address. Charlie and Lily discuss a misunderstanding. Horace Slughorn collects a new gem, Karl Jenkins collects a hex to the face, and Rita collects more enemies. Harry's not sure how he feels about Draco and Ginny's new friendship.

Lying in the bathtub with his wife _would’ve_ been peaceful if it weren’t for the low, constant stream of expletives flowing from her lips.

They’d spent an hour flying after the kids went to bed (or, more accurately, Ginny spent an hour hurdling the Quaffle at Harry hard enough to nearly send him flying from his broom a couple of times), but even that hadn’t managed to diffuse her temper. She was wound up even now, her body tense against his, her eyes glowering darkly at the bath water. Consequently, Harry wanted nothing more than to deal with Rita himself; it was one thing that she was invading their privacy, but it was something else entirely that she had upset Ginny _this_ much. What had been said and what had been done at the Ministry that night were still a mystery to Harry—beyond the fact that the women had been moved to striking each other—but he knew once Ginny did tell him that he’d be in a state similar to the one she was in now, which was probably why she hadn’t yet. Both of them in a towering temper was dangerous.

While Ginny methodically cursed every one of Rita Skeeter’s ancestors with language combinations both impressive and inspiring, Harry decided tending to her wounds couldn’t make things worse. He grabbed his wand from the side of the bathtub and lifted her right hand. He mended the scabbed skin of her knuckles, moved onto her left hand, and then pressed the tip of his wand to the burn on her shoulder. She paused her hateful diatribe once he’d finished mending it and glanced back, meeting his eyes.

“She’d already drafted an article when I got there.”

“Seriously?” Harry demanded. “Did you destroy it?”

“I took it. But I’m sure she’s made copies.” Ginny gently pulled Harry’s wand from his fingers, directed it to her bloody, sooty, and sweaty cloak puddled on the floor, and _Accio_ ed a long sheet of parchment. She set his wand on the ledge and held the parchment up, her wet fingertips leaving damp circles along the edges of Rita Skeeter’s vomit-green writing.

 “‘ _Prophet_ readers who follow my columns will not be shocked to discover that Albus Potter, son of the mentally-ill Boy Who Lived and _Daily Prophet’s_ own resident hothead Ginny Potter, is currently involved in a deep and dangerous sexual relationship with accused son of Voldemort, Scorpius Malfoy. Like the man he was named for, Albus Potter seems to suffer from serious perversions of mind and body, and his thoughts are undoubtedly tainted with venom from the fangs of England’s most notorious snakes—the Malfoys. I stumbled upon the forbidden lovers, only to find them writhing on the streets of Godric’s Hollow, covered in blood, engaged in what appeared at first to be fighting but turned out to be abusive snogging—‘”

“ _Abusive snogging_?” Harry demanded.

“‘Upon closer examination, I discovered that Albus Potter was covered in bleeding wounds, certainly from the hand of his very own lover. Under what circumstances did Albus Potter obtain these grave injuries? Is Scorpius Malfoy living up to the Malfoy name? Long-time readers will remember that I have always believed Lucius and Draco Malfoy to be supporters of archaic domestic violence—a belief that was only bolstered by Astoria Malfoy’s sudden, suspicious death. Or, I will suggest, does the young Potter’s dark streak run deeper than expected? Does he revel in getting injured—perhaps out of some deep-seated instinct for self-hatred, no doubt instilled in him by his father, Harry Potter? Or—even darker yet—are the wounds meant to be a red-herring? Perhaps Albus Potter takes after his violent and unpredictable mother (whom I have long suspected of being mentally damaged due to the mental and emotional injuries she sustained while at Hogwarts, see my article on page 32) and the marks on his body are no more than wounds inflicted from Scorpius Malfoy in self-defense. This leaves me with one, clear question: where are the parents? Why aren’t they intervening in such a violent and obsessive relationship? Why haven’t they separated the abusive, deviant lovers for good? Luckily for my readers, I have an answer. While Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy were openly engaged in furious homosexual acts in the streets of Godric’s Hollow, his parents were engaged in their own debauchery. Close sources report that Harry Potter is “obsessed” with showering with his wife, to the point that the couple “have upwards of ten showers a day, sometimes more, and a dozen on Boxing Day”. The couple is reported to have a Muggle television in the bathroom, as well as a fully-stocked kitchen—”

Harry was laughing so hard his stomach ached. Ginny, however, was still stone-faced.

“‘Tragically, we do not need to speculate the reasons behind the couple’s peculiar kink. In a sweeping discovery (further discussed on page 32), it turns out that Harry Potter’s wife was also possessed by Lord Voldemort at a young age, like the Boy Who Lived himself. I have often speculated that one cannot return from that—and I seem to have been validated in that belief. Local psychology expert at St. Mungo’s, Annette Fitch, who has studied the human mind extensively in both magical and Muggle realms, had plenty to say on the matter: ‘When the developing human mind—be it magical or Muggle—is intruded upon, it forever warps the shape of that mind. We can expect when looking at these two specific cases that both Mr. and Mrs. Potter are suffering from lasting wounds to their psyches” (more on page 32). When asked if the couple’s obsession with co-bathing could be explained as a desperate, aching need to cleanse their tainted, tormented minds, expert Annette Fitch responded: “One could make that suggestion, certainly”. This leaves me with my final question: where are our children’s rights activists? Why have the Potters been allowed to damage their children like this? Who will step in and say: enough is enough? Who will speak for the children? Who, I beg, will speak for Albus Potter? Well, dear readers: I will. I will speak for Albus Potter, for his siblings, for all whose lives have been damaged by the Potters’ instability (mine included). The children are our future, and right now, the future is looking bleak.’”

His smile was gone. His rage was twisting around his chest like a mighty serpent. It made it difficult to breathe properly.

“And this is when you punched her,” Harry realized.

“Right in her disgusting mouth,” Ginny bit.

Harry fidgeted, his jaw set. He reached up and drew his fingers through her wet hair, hoping it would calm him somewhat, but his heart was still racing and he still felt sick.

“Well, we know she’s been in the garden. The last time we talked about what happened with you and Riddle’s diary was in the garden.”

He felt even sicker as he recalled that specific conversation. She’d told him all about a particularly vivid nightmare she’d had the night prior about the events of her first year. He felt deeply violated on her behalf, to know that Rita had found out about something that’d been buried for so long (thanks to Dumbledore’s actions in Harry’s second year), and that Rita had figured it out in such a personal way.

“Yeah, but we already knew she was snooping around our property.”

“Now we’ve got proof. Did you tell Hermione about this? Did you show her the article?”

“No. I wanted to show you and Draco first.”

Harry leaned forward to peer at Ginny so quickly that water sloshed over the sides of the bathtub. He examined her quizzically. She still had that hard, furious look in her eyes.

“Er…why Draco?” he asked.

“Because he deserves to know. They called his dad abusive. They called _him_ abusive. They accused sweet _Scorpius_ of being abusive. I’d want to know if somebody said all that about me, my dad, and my son.”

Draco was going to be _furious_. Possibly more so than Ginny. Harry wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

“He’s going to lose it if you show him this. I mean, Rita accused him of hurting _Astoria_ …”

“That’s precisely why I’m going to show it to him right before we meet with Hermione. Rita’s gone too far.”

“Gin—no! He wasn’t even invited to that meeting!”

“Yes!” She craned her neck up, peering back at him, her expression heated. “He’s going with me and that’s that! This involves _his son_ , too! You’d be _furious_ if the tables were turned, if you were kept from a meeting concerning this filth being written about Albus!”

“I _am_ being kept from the meeting!”

“That’s because you’ll be on the train during the time of it! And you already promised the kids you’d go on the train with them; they’d be heartbroken if you changed your mind last minute.”

She was right. He hated that she was right. Why was she _always_ right?

“At least warn Hermione ahead of time,” he sighed. “So she’ll know to be ready to throw up a shield when the curses inevitably start flying.”

“Nobody’s going to curse anybody. I’m done with that.”

Harry peered down at her, surprised.

“Sorry?”

“I’m done with it,” she repeated darkly. “If Rita wants to fight with words—we’ll fight with words. I know what I’m going to do if we don’t find a real solution tomorrow. Hermione says the Wizarding laws are far behind the Muggle ones when it comes to privacy laws, and she says it’s going to take some time to fix, and if that’s the case—then it works both ways.”

Harry wasn’t following.

“What works both ways?”

“Our rubbish laws. If Rita can legally attack us and our son in the press, I can attack her. If she wants to play like this, I’ll play _dirtier_. If she wants to invade our privacy and mock our family, I’ll _show her_ what it feels like. I won’t give up—I _don’t_ give up. There’s always a way and I’ll find it. And I don’t care if that means I have to drag every single person who ever shared a drop of Skeeter blood through the mud. I am _not_ going to roll over and take it because it’s not just us on the line anymore. I can take her idiocy, but I won’t let her do it to Albus or Scorpius. If she has her way, she’ll string Albus up for the world to see like she did with Hermione in your fourth year, like she did with you. I won’t allow it. That’s _my_ son, that’s _our_ son—there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for him. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for _you._ She’s made a grave mistake.”

He was certain that there was nobody else on the planet that could manage to seem so powerful and intimidating while stretched out naked in a bath overflowing with pink bubbles. She held more power in every inch of her small stature than most people held in their entire bodies. It was one of the many reasons he loved her, but right then, it frightened him. Rita was vicious and conniving. Harry would’ve rather tucked his entire family somewhere far away from her than have any of them go toe-to-toe with the hag.  He would’ve rather taken Rita on himself. But he knew his fears were irrational, based on his love for Ginny and not on his logic. If anybody could handle Rita, it was probably his wife.

So, instead of arguing, instead of saying: ‘ _Let me handle it. Don’t give her any more reasons to come after you. If Hermione can’t do anything to stop it immediately, I’ll stop it, no matter what it takes. I want you safe’,_ he said:

“There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you, Gin. If it comes to that, I’m helping.”

Those words diffused her rage where even Quidditch and a bubble bath had failed. He felt her body literally melt back against his, her tension slowly unwinding. She drew his arms around her waist and hugged them to her.

“I was afraid you’d be stupidly noble and protective,” she admitted.

“Oh, believe me. The urge was there and very strong. Not because I don’t think you’re capable—just because you’re…you know. Mine.”

She tipped her head back and looked up at him skeptically, an eyebrow cocked.

“Careful—sounding a bit possessive there, Harry. If Rita’s in here and she writes about this conversation, you’ll have dozens of angry letters from the lovely ladies at _Witches for Witches_. Wives aren’t property—etcetera, etcetera—all valid points.” A sharp poke to his upper thigh. “I’m not a fancy broomstick, Harry Potter.”

He leaned his face over hers and kissed her lips. Finally, he felt the curve of her smile.

“You know what I mean. You’re my family. You’re—” _everything. I didn’t have anything until I had you. You were always mine in a way that nobody else could’ve been, in a way that has nothing to do with possession and has everything to do with belonging._ “— _Ginny_. And how could I…without you I couldn’t…” his emotion was swelling. The words couldn’t seem to work their way up his throat because of it.

She scooted up his body, her lips seeking his again. She broke off his struggling words and kissed him until they disappeared from his lips.

“Twenty-one years of marriage, three children, I’m sitting naked between your legs, and you’re having a difficult time saying _‘I’m afraid to lose you’_ ,” Ginny said dryly. But the corners of her lips were twitching with a withheld smile. She’d never had any issue hearing the words lurking beneath what he actually said. He was always breathlessly thankful for that.

“No, it’s not that,” he admitted. “I could say those words, but ‘I’m afraid to lose you’ doesn’t cover it. I _couldn’t_ lose you. I’m not just terrified of it—I’m incapable of it. I wish I could explain myself better.”

“There’s no need to. I understand. And I’ve got good news for you and your anxiety: Rita Skeeter hits like an overemotional toddler and not a very strong one at that. And she hexes like an infant who accidentally got a hold of Mummy’s wand. Nothing to worry about there.”

“She _did_ mark you up…”

“Nah, I let her get a few hits in. If I came back perfectly unscathed, it’d look less impressive. Now, my cheek—she actually did get a pretty solid hit in there, but she was aiming for my throat.”

Harry gently lifted her chin up again, so he could meet her eyes.

“She tried to punch your _throat_?!” He demanded. “Skeeter tried to throat-punch you? This is exactly what I’m talking about—she has no morals!”

“To be fair, I’d just said some fairly nasty things involving her mother and a garden gnome.”

Harry stared at her, torn between horror and amusement. “I really wish you’d waited for me, so I could’ve watched this.”

“Next time I get into a fistfight, I promise you can watch.”

“Deal.”

He knew the worst of her anger had passed, beaten out by his supportive words and their easy banter. To seal the deal, he kissed her temple, the hollow beneath her ear, the steady pulse in her neck. She leaned further into him with every kiss, every last bit of tautness in her muscles finally gone. He wasn’t sure why he did it—perhaps he was still dwelling on Rita Skeeter’s violent actions from before—but he slid a hand up from her thigh and rested his palm against the front of her throat, his fingers curling around protectively, his thumb sweeping gently along the edge of her jaw. Her lips had parted and her eyelids had fluttered shut—a good sign. The air had grown heavier, his heart felt like it was thrumming low in his gut, and everything felt warmer: his skin, her skin, the water they were sitting in. He leaned down to press his parted lips to hers. They brushed slightly, there was a shared breath or two, her eyelids opened. He swallowed hard and studied her eyes—they were still blazing and intense, but it was not from anger any longer. She turned over so they were chest-to-chest, and he was holding her tightly, and he was kissing her deeply, and Harry couldn’t even remember what they’d been so angry about only moments prior—

“Harry? Ginny?”

The muffled call came from outside of their bedroom door. Had it been anybody else, Harry probably would’ve shouted: ‘ _Busy— be there in a bit’_ , but yelling that to Ginny’s elder brother just so he could shag her in the bathtub seemed a bit rude (even if the monster in his stomach roared fiercely in disagreement).

“No,” Ginny complained when he slid up slightly, sending even more water flowing from the tub. “It’s after visiting hours.”

“We have visiting hours posted?”

“We do now.” She raised her voice and yelled her next words towards the door. “Charlie, it’s late and it’s past visiting hours and we’re busy! Come back sometime between eight in the morning and ten in the evening on weekdays.”

For a moment, there was no response, and Harry foolishly believed he’d gone. He grinned down at Ginny. He readjusted her, pulling her up his body, so he could press his lips back to hers. And then:

“I think Lily stole my dragon!”

Ginny leaned back, breaking their kiss.

“ _Damn it_ ,” she hissed underneath her breath. She dropped her forehead to Harry’s sternum. He stroked her hair as she mumbled her next vexed words. “This might be one of the worst consequences of Lily’s foolish actions yet.”

“Selfishly, I agree wholeheartedly,” he muttered. His mind was working overtime to inform his body of their new plans for the evening, but his body wasn’t convinced the plan had changed. It was a predicament.

“I’m coming,” Ginny sighed. She made a crass, irritated comment underneath her breath, one that made Harry laugh despite his annoyance. “Be right there.”

Harry’s cheeks stung as she stood, because he was certain Charlie could hear the sloshing bath water, but there was nothing to be done for it. He rested his cheek moodily against the edge of the tub and watched Ginny pull her dressing gown on. He made to rise after a moment, but Ginny turned to face him and cocked an eyebrow.

“Where do you think you’re going? You stay. You’re not fit to be in the presence of any Weasley but me right now. Well—maybe Ron, I have no idea what he’s walked in on you doing before.”

Harry relented. He dropped his cheek back against the bathtub ledge. As he watched her walk from the bathroom, her bright, wet hair leaving a dark patch down the back of her dressing gown, he said:

“I’m not saying this is worse than the Cruciatus curse. But, you know. This might be worse than the Cruciatus.”

He felt inclined to sulk for the rest of the night. Ginny turned in place and walked back over. She kneeled beside the bathtub. He closed his eyes as she kissed him and drew her fingers through his hair, trying to simultaneously savor the contact and keep himself from pulling her back into the bathtub.

“Poor, poor Harry Potter,” she whispered, her lips brushing his. He pulled back and glowered. “Another incomparable struggle that you must shoulder. Have heart, though—there will be plenty of time to wash our past torments from each other’s possessed minds.”

For a moment, he didn’t know if enough time had passed to make fun of Rita’s horrible article. But enough time must’ve, because he snorted and began laughing a moment later, and she joined in on it.

“Good—because my mind’s quite dirty and it could use tidying up.”

“Not as dirty as mine, I can promise you that,” she quipped. She kissed him a final time. “Hurry down. I have no idea what I’m going to tell my brother about Lily…”

She walked out, her brow furrowed as she presumably tried to think up what to say. Harry gave himself five minutes to sulk and bemoan his rotten luck, and then he dressed to head downstairs.

* * *

 

Charlie and Ginny were not alone. Harry stopped short when he spotted Bill and Arthur. He drew a nervous hand through his sopping wet hair. He’d had a nightmare like this once. It hadn’t ended well.

“Er, hi,” he greeted. He rubbed the back of his warm neck. “I was…I was just…”

He glanced quickly towards Ginny. With her eyes trained casually forward, she gave a tiny, nearly indiscernible shake of her head.

“…Hi,” Harry repeated, giving up on his excuses at Ginny’s advice. He came to sit beside her. “What’s…happening?”

He wished Ginny had taken the time to fully dress. He was distracted by the bit of thigh peeking out from beneath her dressing gown, only visible to him from his place at her side. He flushed, cleared his throat, and quickly looked up at the ceiling, as if he’d been peering thoughtfully at the floor instead of ogling Ginny’s skin.

“Bill and Dad remembered something. We think Lily has the dragon,” Charlie repeated.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said, looking between the three Weasley men. “We do, too. We’re fairly certain, actually. We found a bucket of brandy and chicken blood in the shed earlier.”

Ginny kicked his calf. It hurt, but on the bright side, it helped refocus his thoughts.

“And you…what? Were waiting until she got bored with it to check?” Bill asked, baffled. He was peering at Harry like he’d never seen him before. “You _do_ remember how dangerous dragons are, right?”

“Of course he remembers,” Ginny defended, her voice cooler than it had been previously. “We didn’t have any solid evidence until the brandy. We were going to search her room and school trunk as soon as she woke.”

Harry—sensing that Ginny would probably say something she regretted if her brother kept looking at her with that skeptical look—hurriedly interrupted.

“We didn’t want to accuse her without making sure.”

“What I don’t understand,” Arthur commented, speaking up for the first time. He was peering thoughtfully at the wall above Harry and Ginny’s head, “is why she would steal from Charlie in the first place. Stealing a powerful, beautiful creature—that’s certainly not out of character for Lily…I know I for one remember the hippogriff incident in 2013… but stealing from Charlie is. I didn’t want to believe it. I’m still not sure if I do.”

“There must be more to it,” Bill decided. He glanced towards Charlie and then did a double-take. Charlie looked gutted. “Charlie, don’t take it personally. You know she adores you.”

“Yeah,” Harry hurriedly said, horrified that Charlie would actually cry this time. “Her fourth word was her own variation of your name.”

“No, it’s not that—it’s just—I think I know why she did it,” he admitted. “She was outside near my tent one night, and she said she had just arrived to tell me dinner was ready, but I think she must’ve overheard a conversation I was having and misunderstood.”

The protective father in Harry longed to hear that it wasn’t his daughter’s fault. He wanted to defend every one of her actions until he was blue in the face, because she was his child, and _despite_ her poor choices, he thought she and all his other kids were the most wonderful little people in the entire world. But he had to remind himself to be logical and honest about his children’s faults.

“Well, whatever she overheard, it certainly didn’t warrant stealing a baby dragon,” he said. 

“Nobody’s saying that,” Ginny told him. “Charlie, what do you think she heard?”

“I didn’t think anything of it at the time, because I didn’t have any reason to believe she knew I had dragons in the tent nor that my conversation would hold any significance to her, but she must’ve known enough to gather context clues from what she overheard. And then she must’ve jumped to the wrong conclusions.”

“What sort of conclusions?” Ginny pressed, growing agitated, and Harry was right there with her. Their pent up frustration probably wasn’t helping.  

“I think she may’ve gotten the impression that the dragon would die. Why she thought a thirteen-year-old girl was the proper solution to the problem, I’ll never know, but what was said could sound quite different out of context. You know, the dragon is a pitiful case. The chances of rehabilitation into a dragon sanctuary are slim. He’s got a horrible combination of issues: he’s utterly blind, he lets the other dragons bully him to the point that he can’t be near any at all for fear that he’ll be fatally attacked, he’ll probably never be able to breathe fire, and to make matters even more complicated, he’s terrified of human interaction. The night before we left Shell Island…I was talking with a colleague from Romania. One of the enchanted mirrors, you know, so what he was saying was audible, too. And we were discussing that fear…that this dragon would ultimately either end up secluded in its own section of the sanctuary with little interaction from anybody but me—he actually trusts me—or he’d be “released”. And I said something like...—well, to understand what I said, you need to understand what we mean by “release”. When we release one of the handicapped dragons, it’s because it’s so beyond help that keeping it is actually crueler. Some, despite their disabilities, are so stressed out by human touch and interaction that it’s kinder to let them fend on their own in the protected forest set up for them. And some…not many…are so beyond help, are suffering so much, are injured so gravely or so dangerous to others, that they’re let go. Humanely, and it’s only ever happened one time in all the years I’ve worked there, but I think about it every day.” He stopped speaking for a few long moments, his eyes staring unseeingly at the table. “Anyway. I was telling him—my colleague—that this dragon wouldn’t be able to survive in the wild and wouldn’t be able to survive in any of our other sanctuaries, due to its horribly docile personality, and that I feared it would seriously deteriorate in seclusion. And I see how it could’ve sounded to Lily. What I meant was that we had to find another solution that hadn’t been named. But she must’ve thought…she must’ve thought I meant there was only one solution left.”

Bill nodded. “Putting it down.”

“Right. Which—like I said. Only ever happened one time. And it was…the worst thing— well.”

He stopped, and even though he hadn’t admitted a thing, Harry knew he was thinking of Fred. Everybody at the table avoided each other’s eyes.

“One of the worst things I’ve ever been through. But this isn’t a case that would require that. I was going to apply to foster it myself for a few months, hoping I could work on its fear of humans, because if it could learn to at least partially rely on humans for care and comfort, it might be happy with us long term after all.”

“Why didn’t she just confront you if she overheard this?” Arthur asked. Harry sensed that he was fighting the same paternal urge that Harry was. He seemed to want to deny Lily’s involvement just as much as Harry did. “Lily’s never been shy about conflict.”

“True,” Harry agreed, nodding along. “Why didn’t she just ask you about it?”

“Because she’s a thirteen-year-old girl, Dad, Harry,” Ginny piped up. She was looking at them like it was painfully obvious. He guessed to somebody who’d once _been_ a thirteen-year-old girl, it was. “Teenage girls are the most underestimated people there are. She’s learned that adults won’t take her seriously about things like this. She probably felt the situation was too urgent and too serious to waste time arguing. Like Granny Neebit’s cat.”

Bill, Charlie, and Arthur furrowed their brows in a nearly-identical expression of confusion. Harry sighed.

“Ginny stole an old lady’s cat,” Harry explained.

“ _Ginny_?” Arthur demanded, scandalized.

“I did not! This woman—I don’t really know her name, we call her Granny Neebit because she’s old and she’s got this tiny dog that will bite at your knees if you walk through her garden—anyway, she’s got like a million pets—”

“Like you and Harry?” Bill reminded Ginny.

Ginny’s cheeks pinked slightly. “That is _different_ , Bill. She’s got so many that she can’t care for them. They’re all sick and starving. One of her cats _decided_ to come live here. It’s not my fault if it likes it here better. It sleeps in our shed now.”

“And I’m sure you putting out fish and milk for it had nothing to do with its decision,” Harry shot back slyly.

Ginny crossed her arms. “I will not apologize for taking in a starving creature in need of help.”

“Wow, for a minute there you sounded _just_ like Lily.” He looked back at the Weasley men. “Ginny thinks Lily’s _my_ spitting image.”

They didn’t laugh in disbelief like he’d expected. He and Ginny had been arguing over who Lily took after most all day, and he’d thought she was delusional for thinking it could be anybody but her.

“Well, Harry,” Arthur pointed out, his tone gentle. “You do tend to…save people and animals a lot too.”

“Second Triwizard task,” Charlie added.

“But that’s—that’s entirely different than—” he looked between them. He gestured incredulously at his wife. “She adopted seven Pygmy Puffs today! _Seven_!”

“We could argue all night about whether or not certain aspects of Lily’s personality were a worriedly intense combination of both of yours, or we could figure out how to get Charlie’s dragon back,” Bill redirected.

“We’re not waking her up,” Ginny told them sternly. “Whatever we decide—it’ll have to wait until morning.”

“Of course,” Bill agreed.

Nobody made to stand. Harry exchanged a worried look with Ginny. Surely they didn’t plan on waiting in the kitchen all night?

“Which means,” Ginny said firmly, “you can come back around seven.”

Charlie looked reluctant to leave, but after only a few more minutes of further planning and conversation, all their guests were gone. Ginny turned to Harry. He immediately pulled her into his arms. He let out a relieved sigh, his hand reaching up to brush her hair back from her cheeks. It was nearly dry now.

“Thank Merlin. I didn’t think they were going to leave,” he admitted. She responded with a fierce kiss, backing up towards the counter, dragging him with her. Harry lifted her up, sat her on the edge, brought is mouth back to hers, his hand finding the gap of her dressing gown—

The sound of somebody arriving in the Floo made him pull back.

“Oh, what _now_?!” Ginny demanded.

Harry glanced behind as George tumbled from the fireplace, a soot-covered grin in place.

“Is it true?!” he demanded gleefully, looking between Harry and Ginny. “Ron says you punched Rita Skeeter in the _face_ , Ginny!” He studied them. He paused. “Oh—I’ve interrupted something, haven’t I?”

Harry slowly pulled his hands out from underneath her dressing gown, his face burning. Ginny was glaring.

“Yeah, you very obviously have.”

“Sorry,” he said impatiently, but he didn’t look it. “So tell me everything.”

“No! No, I won’t! It’s nearly one in the morning, I’ve had every one of my family members storm my house now except for Ron, Mum, and Percy—”

“Er…” George said, his eye flickering back to the fireplace. Ginny continued.

“—I am done! I’m an adult, I’ve got my own house; why can’t I get any privacy _anywhere_? Between Rita and my brothers I swear I’ll never get an opportunity to—”

Another _whoosh_ as flames came to life in the kitchen fireplace.

“This is brilliant,” Ron said, grinning. He stumbled out onto the ash-covered rug. “Ginny, Hermione’s just told me, I can’t believe—AH! Ugh!” He slapped his hand over his eyes. “Ginny! What the—”

“Don’t you dare start! I can do whatever I like and wear whatever I like! This is _my_ house! My kitchen!” A pause. Ginny grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt. _“My_ husband!” 

“Ginny, if you need a moment with Harry, just tell us. I’m sure it won’t take very long,” George snickered.

“Oi!” Harry demanded, spinning around to glare at George. Ron’s face was purple and he looked torn between laughing at George’s joke and screaming in horror.

“Ron, George, I love you, but I’m going to need you both to sod off,” Ginny ordered. “You can come back at seven like—”

_Whoosh_. Percy stepped out onto the rug, a nightcap covering his greying hair and his hands on his hips.

“Ginny. I hope what I’ve heard isn’t true. I hope my sister wasn’t inside the _Ministry_ physically fighting with Rita Skeeter! Do you have any idea what people are saying about you now? Do you have any idea the damage you’ve done to your professional reputation, and at the height of your career no less—”

Harry glanced back at Ginny, and when he did, he saw her face was very red. And not due to embarrassment. Her eye had developed a twitch.

“Er…okay, so, you should all leave,” Harry blurted.

Flames filled the fireplace once more. Ginny said a particularly dirty word. Molly Weasley’s head appeared in the fire.

“Ron, George, and Percy!” she said.

“Mum, they’re barging into my house!” Ginny tattled immediately, outraged. Molly’s eyebrows rose.

“I _hoped_ my clock was lying when it showed you three at Ginny and Harry’s after midnight! I know we’re all excited that Rita Skeeter got punched in the face—”

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. George was cackling madly, delighted.

“—but as I’ve told you time and time again, it’s not okay to just barge into your sister’s house at odd hours—”

“Why?” Percy said, oblivious. He gestured towards Harry and Ginny. Ginny was still sitting on the counter, and even though Harry had previously readjusted her gaping dressing gown, he thought it was pretty clear what they’d been up to. “They’re still awake.”

Molly pursed her lips. George was wheezing from lack of air due to his laughter. Ron resembled the late Arnold the Pygmy Puff in color.

“Percy,” Molly began, hesitant. “You still shouldn’t do it.”

“Why? They were already down here. Why’s everybody so angry?”

“Perce,” George piped up. “I think Mum’s trying to tactfully explain to you that our dear little sister and the Boy Who Lived were—how shall I word this? Hmm…” he trailed off, leaving Harry full of embarrassed horror, with nothing to do but wait for George to do his comedic worst. “Cooking up some love? Polishing—”

“George!” Molly interrupted shrilly.

“Oh, fine, I’ll take my time forming my jokes and save them for dull moments—”

“ _Out_!” Ginny demanded. “We have visiting hours now! And you’re outside of them!”

Percy left first (after promising Ginny that they’d have a ‘talk’ later about her behavior), George left sniggering a little afterwards, mumbling suggestive euphemisms underneath his breath every few snickers, and then there was one.

“Ron.”

He looked up from the refrigerator, homemade butterbeer in hand.

“Hmm? Oh—you want one?”

Harry was trying to find the gentlest words to offer his oldest and most cherished friend. Ginny, on the other hand, decided words weren’t need. Harry felt her hands grab onto his face, yanking him forcefully down to her, and before he could say a word, she was snogging him breathless.

“ _Ugh!_ Why do you _have to do that_ —”

Harry pulled back.

“Mate, I think this is her way of saying you need to —” the rest of his sentence disappeared into Ginny’s mouth as she yanked him back down.

“Fine! _Fine_! I can’t believe that _I_ have to follow the visiting hours, though! This is wrong, and— _ugh! Okay,_ I’m leaving!”

Once he was gone, Ginny brought up a decent point.

“You know, if we _did_ live at Hogwarts, we wouldn’t have to worry about this.”

It was certainly something to think about.

* * *

 

Harry was nearly done with breakfast, much to the relief of James and Albus, who’d been pathetically whining about being _starving_ for the past half-hour, entirely uncaring to the fact that quiches were an art and therefore couldn’t be rushed. Lily and Aster had yet to rise; Charlie was waiting patiently at the breakfast table, a long letter in hand. Nora was playing with three of the Pygmy Puffs and Ginny was talking Quidditch strategy with Scorpius, who’d come down to breakfast nervously mumbling about having doubts about trying out for the team. And Harry was having a wonderful time listening to the mingled sounds of all the conversation. It was one of his favorite parts about cooking.

“Right. And then you feign right—and they’ll think you’re psyching them out because they were clearly aiming left—and then they’ll aim—”

“—No, Albus, I’m _telling you,_ firewhiskey is _much_ stronger than Muggle ale—”

“—Ginny, what if I drop the ball after I catch it, am I allowed to quickly dive down to get it or—”

“—You didn’t try this ale, James, it was disgusting and really strong! I couldn’t even drive the motorbike afterwards…--”

“Morning!”

Harry turned at the sound of a new voice. He smiled once at Lily, but her smile had faded rapidly. She was staring wide-eyed at Charlie. He slowly put down his letter and offered her a smile. She responded by narrowing her eyes.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” she demanded.

Ginny snapped her eyes to Lily. “If I _ever_ hear you greet family like that again, Lily Luna, I’ll scourgify your mouth twice! You won’t talk to my brother that way! That is _nasty_ and unacceptable behavior! Harry!”

Harry didn’t feel like much needed to be added onto that—Ginny’s voice had been serious and dangerous—but he turned around and narrowed his eyes at Lily.

“Apologize. Your uncle didn’t do anything. You’re the one who stole from _him_.”

Ginny was still glowering at their daughter. Lily gaped.

“I didn’t! I did not!”

Charlie stood. “Lily, I understand. And I think we need to talk about what happened. I’m not angry, okay? I just want to talk about this because I want you to understand.”

Without much prior warning, Lily burst into tears. Albus and James both jumped from their chairs, alarmed, their eyes locked on Lily in concern. Harry felt a brief flash of pride at the fact that it seemed instinctive for them to come to their little sister’s rescue, but Lily didn’t need coddling right now—she needed to fix the mistake she’d made.

“Sit,” Ginny ordered coolly, when both boys began edging forward. “She’s fine.”

James and Albus exchanged a skeptical look, but after a moment, they slowly sank back down onto the edges of their seats, their posture tense, uneasy expressions on their faces.  

But she wasn’t fine. Ginny seemed to realize that right when Harry did. Because she did something she’d never done in her entire life a moment later, not even during her terrible toddler years: she fell to her knees and held her hands up in front of herself, pleading.

“ _Please_ don’t take Opal! Please, Charlie! Please! Opal’s a good dragon—he can fly now, and he’s gained five kilograms, and he can breathe a tiny bit of fire a few times a day, and he knows his name and he cuddles beside me every night! He won’t be happy there in solitary and I won’t let anybody get rid of him! I won’t let the other dragons hurt him! _Please_ , Charlie!”

She bowed her head and began weeping into her hands. Right then, drowning in her nightdress, tangled red hair tumbling over her shaking shoulders as she sobbed, she looked years younger than thirteen. And Harry—despite his strength, despite the fact that he knew she’d brought this onto herself—surrendered. Thankfully, Ginny did too. And Albus and James. They all collapsed down onto the floor near Lily at nearly the same moment, and Charlie was there a moment later, too. Without a word, Lily flung herself into Charlie’s opened arms, sobbing into his neck.

“I d-d-don’t know _why_ you w-w-would _do that_!” she gasped. “You are m-m-my _Charlie_! You _n-n-never_ hurt animals! Opal is a _g-g-good boy_!”

Harry met Ginny’s eyes. He could tell that she was realizing the same thing that he was: not all of this crying was about Opal. Lily had probably felt extremely betrayed and lied to after overhearing the conversation that she had, and probably dreadfully confused, too. After all, if Charlie, one of the best men she knew, could say something like that—what did that mean about everybody else she’d thought was good? Harry had experienced that jarring emotion many times in his youth, and it was one of the worst. He would never forget how damaging it’d been to see his father in such a negative light in Snape’s memories.

“Lily, I would _never_ let anything happen to Opal,” Charlie comforted. Harry was touched that he was using the name Lily had given the dragon. “I know that you overheard my conversation. And I know what it sounded like. But that’s not what I meant at all. Lily—I was going to foster Opal myself. I was going to let him live with me in my house until he got too big, and then I was going to find a suitable place for him.”

“No!” Lily insisted. She hiccupped and struggled to inhale, her cries making it difficult to catch her breath. “I heard you! Y-you said he would have no way to live! H-h-he gets bullied by all the other dragons! And he is scared! And he can’t see, and I can hardly see without my glasses too, so I know how he feels and I can help him! I can help him, Charlie! I’ve got a potion and—and he likes _six_ people now! And he can navigate around the garden when he’s flying!”

“Lily,” Charlie whispered. He pulled back so he could look at her face. Albus was sitting close to Lily, nervously patting her back, his expression one of intense worry. James was nervously picking at the skin around his nails; Ginny reached over and took his hand to stop him before he drew blood. “You’ve done a good job with Opal. I’m so glad. I was so worried about him. But you know he can’t stay here with you. It wouldn’t be fair. He needs so much space. He’s going to get bigger than you can imagine. And you should’ve come to talk to me about what you heard. I would’ve listened. Taking Opal—that was so dangerous.”

“B-but Hagrid said it would be okay! He said Norberta did fine with him!”

Harry looked at Ginny. _So that’s who the mysterious letter was from_ , he thought. He was certain she was thinking the same thing. They nodded at each other. _Yes, that makes sense._

“Hagrid never should’ve told you that it would be okay. And you should’ve come to me if you were worried.”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Lily cried. She tightened her arms around Charlie like she was afraid he’d push her away. “I just—after I h-heard that—I went into the tent, ‘cos I was curious, and there he was a-a-and he walked right over to me and he—he—” she broke down into sobs again. “ _He went right into my arms, Charlie, and he loves me!”_

“Is this necessary?” James exploded. “She’s learned her lesson—look at her!”

“Oi, Brother Bear—hush,” Ginny scolded.

“He went into your arms? What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

“I s-sat on the ground when he came over to me, and he crawled into my lap and _into my arms_!” The memory set her off again. She wept so fiercely that she couldn’t catch her breath. The force of her sobs sent her glasses sliding halfway down the bridge of her nose. She backed out of Charlie’s arms gasping and retreated right into Harry’s; he held her tightly to him, his own throat prickling with tears.

“Shh,” he comforted, rubbing her back firmly. He kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay, Lulu. Breathe.”

“It’s _n-not okay_! I can’t _l-live_ without Opal!”

Horribly, before he could do a thing to stop it, Harry saw a flash of green, a falling flash of white feathers. The back of his eyes burned. He couldn’t have dismissed Lily’s sadness as preteen angst even if he wanted to (and he didn’t).

“I know,” he whispered, where hopefully only she could hear. “I know it feels like that. But it’s going to be okay—I know because I’ve been there.”

“Lily,” Charlie whispered gently. “Why don’t you show me Opal? I won’t take him away until you leave for school. One last day with him, yeah?”

Lily didn’t look happy about it, but she miserably marched Charlie up to her room, where Aster was “babysitting” the dragon.

* * *

 

“Well,” Ginny commented. Harry zipped up his bag and lifted it onto his shoulder. “I never thought I’d say this, but I want another baby, Harry. Preferably one with scales and the ability to breathe fire.”

Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at Ginny. She was stretched out on her stomach on the couch, the baby dragon resting in front of her on the cushion. She was letting it gnaw on her finger. Lily was sadly stroking its scales, bouncing between extreme sadness and acceptance at a dizzying rate. Charlie was continually expressing his awe to anybody who would listen at how good Lily had done with Opal—though all the adults made sure to follow up with _but you shouldn’t have taken him, Lily_ —just to be sure the lesson was received.

While Ginny cooed to the dragon with nearly the same enthusiasm she’d cooed to their newborn babies with, Harry made sure everybody was packed up. James and Nora’s things had mysteriously migrated deep into each other’s trunks, to the point that they were calling them “their trunks”; Scorpius and Albus were done packing and currently sitting incredibly closely on the adjacent sofa, heads bowed together as they watched their Pygmy Puffs jump around their shared cage; Aster was perched on the arm of the sofa beside Lily, dutifully patting her back as Lily alternated between steely determination and tears; and Harry was nervous. He didn’t know why he was nervous. He would only be at Hogwarts for the Start-of-Term Feast, and then he’d get to come back home. But classes would begin tomorrow and he’d begun having second thoughts.

“Come with me,” he requested to Ginny, right before they climbed into the car. It wasn’t the best moment for him to plead it. Lily was weeping into Aster’s shoulder, having just told Opal goodbye. Albus had just realized he’d forgotten one of his books and had dashed back into the house, ensuring they’d arrive at King’s Cross later than they’d anticipated. James—in an attempt to cheer Lily up—had tried to charm her stuffed dragon (that she’d yet to let go of since Opal and Charlie left) so it’d flap its wings, but instead it weakly twitched them from time to time, which only made Lily even _more_ upset.

Needless to say, Ginny hardly heard his vulnerable request. She did spare him a quick look and a ‘ _what?’_ , but looked back to the kids a moment later as Lily succumbed to harder tears.

“Lu!” Ginny cried, frustrated. “I know it’s sad, and I know you miss him, but Charlie promised you could see him again this summer. It’s for the best—letting him go is the best thing.”

“He was _shrieking for me_! He thinks I’ve abandoned him!”

Ginny faltered, clearly not knowing what to say back to that. The dragon had tried to escape Charlie’s arms and fly back to Lily (and had nearly succeeded). Listening to its panicked cries had been really difficult for everybody. Harry had even seen tears sparkling in Scorpius’s eyes.

“Well, you can’t have dragons at Hogwarts, Lily. You had no choice. He’s going to be fine, okay?”

“It’s _not_ okay! Not even a little bit!”

“Oh, Merlin. Harry?” Ginny turned to look back at him, pleading for him to take over. She’d been trying to calm Lily down for almost fifteen minutes by now. Harry was positive he wouldn’t make much more progress, but he obliged. He slid into the car and perched on the edge of the seat.

“Lily, you’ve got to find Strong Lily. When bad things happen, we’ve just got to focus on our strength and make the best of it.”

“I have n-no power _left_! I’m too heartbroken!”

Harry glanced back at Ginny.

“I tried,” he said tiredly.

Ginny was massaging her temples, a stressed expression covering her face. Scorpius leaned over James—who was still frantically trying to set Lily’s stuffed dragon right—and offered Lily a soft, reassuring smile.

“He’s just going off to school too, Lily,” Scorpius said. “You’re going to Hogwarts, and he’s going to Romania to learn about being a dragon. And then, in the summertime, you’ll see each other again, and you can show each other everything you learned.”

A miracle. It was a miracle. Lily’s cries slowly dwindled until they stopped altogether. She gave a watery smile and reached up, brushing the tears from her cheeks. Harry and Ginny exchanged an identical look, one that said: _we just spent the past fifteen minutes trying to calm her to no avail and Scorpius says a few sentences and manages it?_

“Yeah,” Lily finally said. She hiccupped. “You’re right. And once I’m done with Hogwarts, Charlie says I can study dragons, too.”

Scorpius beamed. “Yeah! So the harder you focus, the better your marks will be, and the better your marks are, the better your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s will be, and the better those are, the better chance you’ve got of going to Romania to be with Opal! Focusing on your studies can help a lot. That’s what I do when people are being really cruel and saying the usual things: ‘Your dad doesn’t love you because you’re Voldemort’s child’, ‘You’re evil incarnate and shouldn’t even be here’, ‘Your hair looks stupid with your complexion’…stuff like that.”

Lily frowned. “But that’s horrible. Who says those things to you?”

Scorpius’s cheeks pinked. “Yeah, I guess it is really horrible, isn’t it? I’m so used to it that I forget. Albus and I—we’ve got thick skin.”

Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm and tugged, gently pulling him from the car.

“Harry,” she said, her eyes hardened. “I want fifty points from the first student who says something cruel to Albus or Scorpius.”

“I’ll take fifty and James will take twenty.”

“Good.” And then she turned and climbed into the backseat, worming her way between James and Scorpius, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Scorpius—remember what I taught you. The key is to picture the size of the bats before you cast the hex…”

“Back!” Albus appeared at Harry’s side, out of breath, his book clutched in his arms. “Okay, I’ve got everything now. Promise.” He peered into the car. “What are Mum and Scorpius whispering about?”

“I think she’s encouraging him to hex his classmates.”

“Oh, right—Mum, we know, we’ve already had this conversation…”

Quidditch and classes were the main topics during the drive to King’s Cross, but Harry could tell there were many unsaid worries lurking beneath those topics—Harry’s included.

* * *

 

Ginny had seemed fine with it all morning, but when it came time for her to hug her entire family goodbye, there were no smiles to be had. She held each of her children for as long as they’d let her (which wasn’t nearly as long as Harry knew she would’ve liked). James must’ve read her nervousness because he permitted a nearly twenty-second hug in front of all his classmates, which was probably a record. Ginny hugged Nora and watched the seventh years hurry off for important Head Boy and Prefect duties. She turned to Albus and Scorpius.

“Al,” she said, and then she stopped. The noise and bustle of the train station took over. For a moment, she was frozen, her brown eyes locked on Albus like she was trying to memorize everything about him. Nobody else at the station would’ve known, but Harry knew she was very close to tears. Her lips had twitched ever so slightly; she was nervously twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger. Albus and Scorpius exchanged a confused look.

“Mum?” Albus questioned, his brow furrowing. “Are you—?”

His words broke off as she wrapped him up into a fierce hug. Albus let out a weak exhalation as the breath was squeezed from him.

“M-Mum,” he said, half-heartedly patting her back. “Mum, I can’t—breathe—”

She loosened her arms slightly but didn’t let go. Harry spotted a red head from across the station and waved, pleased to see it was Ron. He waved back and grinned. He pointed at Hermione and Rose—both getting caught up in new conversations with every step they took—and gave an exasperated shrug as if to say: _My Granger-Weasley girls—what can you do?_

Harry glanced back at Ginny and Albus. She still had him in her arms. Harry caught Albus slyly trying to catch a glimpse of the time on Ginny’s wristwatch from over his own shoulder, though he was hugging her back, too.

“Er—Gin,” Harry gently prodded her waist. “You’ve got to let go.”

“No,” Ginny argued. But she took a half-step back a second later. She sniffed and offered Albus a watery smile. He looked shocked—Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Ginny truly teary-eyed before. “No matter what anybody says, Albus, you’re a brilliant wizard and an even better boy. And your dad and I—your whole family—we’re so proud to call you ours. Please don’t forget that.”

Albus didn’t seem to know what to say. He parted his lips, then closed them, then parted them again. From Albus’s side, Scorpius looked particularly forlorn. Harry remembered, with a sinking heart, that he no longer had a mother. He didn’t have to dig far into his own memories to remember what that felt like, to be desperate for a mother’s love and to see your friend receiving it.

“Thanks, Mum,” Albus finally settled on. He rubbed the back of his neck, equal parts bewildered and embarrassed. But he did reach forward and pull her into another quick hug.

“See you on the train,” Harry told Albus with a small smile. Albus nodded and smiled back. He grabbed his trunk and turned, and Scorpius grabbed his, but he was seized into a fierce hug before he could take a step away, much to his surprise.

“Oh,” Scorpius squeaked, taken aback. It took him a few seconds, but he gradually relaxed into the hug, his arms hesitantly lifting up to wrap around Ginny, too. “I get a Potter mum hug, too.”

“Of course you do,” Ginny said, her voice still thick with emotion. Scorpius let his cheek rest against her shoulder. Harry caught a small smile forming on his face. When Ginny stepped back, it was still in place. “Don’t you listen to a word anybody says about you, either. You’re wonderful and we’re all proud that you’re dating Albus. Don’t forget, if you ever need anything—Harry and I are there in a heartbeat.”

Scorpius was more than taken aback. He was openly gaping, as if he’d never been told anything nice before in his life. He blinked rapidly, his eyes glistening.

“That’s—that’s really nice, Albus’s mum. Ginny. Mrs. Potter. I—that means a lot to me.”

Ginny smiled. “Go on so you aren’t late. Goodbye, boys, have fun! And—” she had to yell the rest of her sentence after their retreating backs, “—don’t you dare hoard that money you won! You boys better go to Hogsmeade and spend all of it!”

“Never thought we’d have to order our teenage son to do that,” Harry admitted.

“Hey,” Ron greeted. He and Hugo had escaped the social niceties. Hugo struck up a conversation with Lily and Aster, who’d been sadly whispering back and forth to the side.

“Hey, how’s—”

Harry’s question was cut off as _his_ breath was squeezed from his chest. Harry hardly had time to process the desperation in his wife’s tight hug before she released him.

“Gin, I’m going to see you after dinner,” he reminded her, startled.

“Promise me you’ll watch over them.”

“Of course I will.” His brow furrowed. He exchanged a quick look with Ron and then grabbed Ginny’s hand, pulling her over to a more secluded spot. He studied her face. She looked distinctly stressed. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Her anxious eyes bore into his. “I think I only just realized that they’re really going back. And when I was looking at Al, I found myself thinking…what if this is the last time I see him happy for years? What if he goes back and people are horrid to him and everything reverts to the way it was? I can’t stand the thought of that; of him losing every bit of self-confidence he’s gained this summer, and I—”

There were times to rant, and there were times to be comforted. This was the latter. He gently tugged her over into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers, ignoring the scandalized whispers from behind them and the distinct sound of cameras clicking. That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was protecting his family, and he couldn’t imagine what _he’d_ be feeling if he were Ginny. Sure—she’d see them at Christmas and she’d see Harry every night, but the fact remained that her children were going to be out of her supervision and care for months, and that was particularly troubling when one of them had only just mended from the trauma of the previous year.

When he pulled back, her eyes were glassy again.

“I won’t let that happen. Trust me, all right? I know I’ve—…” he reached up and rubbed anxiously over his scar. “I know I’ve made so many mistakes where Al is concerned. But…I won’t let it happen again.”

“I do trust you. It’s his peers I don’t trust.”

“Well, you’ve taught them both a magnificent bat-bogey.”

Ginny smiled half-heartedly.

“Yes, at least there’s that.”

“At least there’s that,” Harry agreed, his own soft smile in place.

He felt like he was telling her goodbye. Platform 9 ¾ had always felt like a turning point. He pulled her into a tight hug.

“Dinner,” he said, more for his benefit than hers. “After dinner. Not forever.”

“Not forever.”

After another kiss, they rejoined the rest of their extended family as they finished saying their goodbyes.

* * *

 

“Harry, my boy!”

_Damn_. Harry slowed in the middle of the corridor at the sound of Horace Slughorn’s voice, much to the surprise of the students behind him. Two girls around Lily’s age let out giggling shrieks and stopped in place as he did, their wide eyes locked on his scar. 

“Er, you can go on ahead, sorry,” Harry told them, gesturing them on. They didn’t move. “Seriously—you’re blocking the corridor.”

With another set of giggles, the girls walked on. Harry peeked into the nearest compartment, affirmed that it was empty, and then ducked in. Slughorn caught up and entered behind him, beaming. His face was drooping with age and drenched with sweat. He mopped at it with a fine golden handkerchief.

“Harry, I was hoping I’d run into you before you got settled,” he panted. He turned on the spot and peered around the compartment. “Yes, this’ll do nicely.” He collapsed down onto the seat. “I’ll send for my Slug Club members soon, but first—how are you, Harry?”

“Good, yeah. Er…” Harry trailed off, trying to find the gentlest way to decline Horace’s offer. “I’ve actually told Neville I’d meet him. He’s saving me a seat. And then I told my kids I’d sort of drift between them and their friends…”

“Oh, well,” Horace said, “you can just return with them. Tell me—I can’t bear to wait: how has Lily’s potion been coming along?”

“Great, actually. I took some and I _think_ my vision improved a bit. I could actually—” he stopped. Admitting he could count his wife’s freckles felt too personal. “See some stuff with my glasses off.”

“ _Brilliant_!” Horace boomed. “Oh, I knew Lily was a genius from the moment I met her. And James—he’s Head Boy _and_ Quidditch Captain this year, right?”

“Right. Whether or not that was a mistake…only time will tell. Hopefully he’ll be able to manage his time wisely.”

Horace’s smile diminished. “And Albus— well, I'm sure you understand why I didn't choose him for Prefect...”

“Sure," Harry said coldly. He felt the sting of his nails biting into his palms; he hadn't even realized he'd clenched his fists. "I wasn't a Prefect, either, you know. But the difference is-- I would've made a rubbish one. Albus would've actually done a great job, had he been given the chance."

Horace flushed deeply. He grew defensive. “Don’t look at me like that, Harry. It’s not my fault I don’t know Albus that well. Don’t you think I’ve tried? A Potter in my House—I was prouder than you could’ve imagined! Prouder than anybody! But he refuses to talk with me more than he has to. He has declined every Slug Club invitation I’ve offered him—”

“Probably because you didn’t invite Scorpius Malfoy.”

Horace guffawed. “Why on _earth_ would I invite the Malfoy boy?”

“Because the Malfoy boy is a great wizard.” Horace looked skeptical. Harry crossed his arms defiantly. “Scorpius Malfoy can produce a corporeal Patronus. And Ginny says his bat-bogey is nearly as good as hers.”

There was a brief silence.

“A corporal Patronus? _Ginny_ said that?”

“Yes.” Harry readjusted his bag. “If you want Albus in your Slug Club, that’s how you do it. You invite Scorpius. If you’re lucky, they’ll decide to attend.”

Harry turned to leave.

“Okay, see you soon, my boy!” Horace called after him. Harry ground his teeth as he walked off.

* * *

 

“Harry!” Neville beamed. He hurriedly cleared off a spot on the seat across from him. It had previously been home to at least a dozen potted plants. “New subspecies I’ve been working on all summer.”

“Nice,” Harry appreciated, eyeing the strange plants. They looked like neon orange, fur-covered Christmas trees. “They’re oddly…cute.”

“Don’t touch it!” Neville hurriedly shrieked, as Harry reached out to touch the one beside him. “They’re incredibly poisonous.”

“Oh? What do they do?”

“They make your hair fall out and your blood gush from every orifice.”

“…Oh.” Harry scooted towards the window and as far away from the evil little plants as possible. “So _why_ are you breeding them?”

“Because I think their sap could cure dragon pox completely. I’m working on it with my N.E.W.T. students.”

“Oh, James is going to think it’s actually Christmas,” Harry commented. Neville laughed.

“So how are things?” Harry asked. “Is Hannah feeling better?”

“Yeah, turns out it was the Muggle New Phonia. The other Healers were shocked! They didn’t believe her at first when she self-diagnosed it.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Pneumonia?”

“Yeah, that. They think she picked it up while we were abroad.”

“Wow. Is she back at work yet?”

“Yeah, today actually! How are Ginny and the kids?”

Harry laughed. “Well. Ginny got into a fist-fight with Rita Skeeter at the Ministry last night, Lily stole a baby dragon from Charlie Weasley and hid it in our house for a month, Albus is being preyed upon by the media, and those sodding slugs keep devouring my plants. But other than that—yeah, things are great.”

Neville stared, wide-eyed.

“You and Ginny never really get a break, do you?” he finally asked.

“ _No_. Or a minute alone. Last night—” Harry stopped abruptly. It was rare for him to _ever_ talk about anything sexual with anybody but Ginny, simply because Ron would rather have his ears chopped off than hear it. Very rarely he and Neville talked about things like that, but the occurrences were far and few between and usually involved firewhiskey and late night conversation. “We…er. Had some unexpected visitors.”

Neville’s eyes widened. He knew Harry’s cagey this-is-about-sex-but-I-won’t-say-‘sex’ voice.

“Who?!”

“Literally every one of her brothers and her dad.”

“Why?!”

“To revel in Ginny’s post-fistfight glow? Search me. I felt like I was sixteen again, though, trying to get Ginny away from her brothers long enough to make a move. Ridiculous. It actually had us considering McGonagall’s offer to live at Hogwarts during the term.”

Neville looked out the window at the passing scenery. His eyes were wide and haunted.

“One time…Hannah’s dad…he walked in.”

Harry waited for more. He was about to ask _walked in…on what?_ But then he recognized the implications of Neville’s wide eyes.

“Oh. _Oh_! Oh,” he winced. “That sounds…”

_Horrible_ seemed too mild of a word. He wracked his brains for the proper one. Neville continued to stare off with a faraway, tormented expression.

“I don’t know if the world’s been the same for me since…it changes you, y’know…”

While Neville considered the blurring landscape, his expression furrowed, Harry’s thoughts drifted to the end of last night, where they stayed for quite a while.

* * *

 

He and Neville ate an obscene amount of cauldron cakes. Harry immediately regretted it from the first one, his stomach already beginning to ache, but he kept eating them anyway. The Hogwarts Express wouldn’t be _right_ without sugar, anyway. He was gathering the remaining sweets to take to his children when he paused, his ears catching the sound of passing conversation.

“Is that Lily?” Neville asked, turning his head towards the sound of the voices outside the compartment.

“Yes, it is indeed. Who’s the boy?” Harry asked, his voice a bit sharper than he’d intended.

“Quinton Bell, I think. He’s a third year Gryffindor.”

They grew silent as Lily and Quinton stopped directly outside of their compartment. Their conversation grew louder.

“Cool! I like dragons, too. I like red ones. What about you?”

“Antipodean Opaleyes. Hey, I thought this is where my dad and Professor Neville were going to sit! They’re not in here.”

“Across the corridor? The one beside it?” Quinton suggested. There was a slightly muffled sound of approaching footsteps. Quinton took such a deep breath that Harry could hear it from inside his closed-off compartment. “Lily…you know, well, all summer I’ve wanted to tell you…well…”

“Huh? You wanted to tell me ‘well’?” Lily asked impatiently. Harry heard her open and close the neighboring compartment.

“No! No. I mean. I wanted to tell you…” he took another deep breath. “You’re very pretty, Lily.”

Harry scowled. Neville bit back laughter. Harry went to stand, but Neville blocked his path.

“Sorry. I promised Ginny I wouldn’t let you be overprotective.”

“Oh, did she tell you that I can’t _breathe_ , too? Because both are instinctive—move!” He tried to step around Neville, but Neville blocked him again. Even from behind a closed door, Harry could feel the tension coming off of Quinton as he waited for Lily to respond. And when Lily finally did, her voice was a bit bored.

“Okay, I don’t care,” she said. “Most girls are pretty. But do you think I’m powerful?”

“Erm…what?”

“Do you think I’m powerful? Or do you _just_ think I’m pretty?”

“I…sure? I mean…I _guess_ you’re powerful? But I _know_ you’re pretty…”

“Cool, thanks, I guess. That's nice to say. Pretty’s boring, though.” The compartment door slid open. Lily beamed, relieved. “Dad! There you are!” She cheered. She turned around and waved. “Bye, Quinton. Dad— _ooh,_ cauldron cakes!”

Lily plopped down beside Harry and tore into the cauldron cakes with an enthusiasm her Uncle Ron would’ve been proud of. Harry shook his head fondly.

“Oh, Lily,” he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. “You’re a Potter-Weasley through-and-through.”

“I know,” Lily said. “Neville, do you want a cauldron cake?”

“Thanks, but I’ve had plenty. I hear you’ve had a very…interesting summer,” Neville said.

“I had a dragon. He was perfect. I’m going to see him again this summer.”

Scorpius’s pep talk had been really effective. There wasn’t a tear in sight as Lily talked about Opal. Harry was breathlessly relieved; he hated seeing his children in pain, even if it was technically their own fault.

“Will you be allowed to go to Hogsmeade this year?” Neville wondered.

“As long as I can 'behave myself'," she closed the words with finger-quotes. 

Neville glanced at Harry. "Oh, I figured-- with the dragon--"

"Mum and Dad let Charlie pick my punishment. I have to write three rolls of parchment on the proper care of dragons and why a bedroom is not a suitable place to keep one. It's due in two weeks.”

Neville looked a bit taken aback. “Oh. That’s—wow. That's a lot of work.”

“I’m just glad Mum didn’t pick. She’s been threatening to make me help Gran cook Saturday dinners for weeks.”

Harry caught motion from the corner of his eye, and when he looked up, James was at the doorway.

“Hey, Dad. Hey, Neville. Er…” he looked shiftily to the side.

“Oh, Merlin. What?” Harry demanded tiredly.

“Say…I saw something. Something that’s _technically_ against the rules. Do I have to take points away?”

Neville and Harry exchanged a look.

“Well,” Neville said, “Technically…yes.”

“But…un-technically?” James pressed, clearly searching for a certain answer.

“What did you see, James?” Harry demanded.

“Er…okay, look, I want to preface this by saying—”

_“James_.”

“…Albus bat-bogey hexed Karl Jenkins.”

Harry buried his face into his hands and sighed. They weren’t even at Hogwarts yet. He _told_ Ginny that teaching them that was probably a bad idea…

Neville gaped. “ _Already?!”_

“Yeah. In front of his Head of House.”

Harry lifted his face from his hands. “So why are you here asking us? If he saw, didn’t he take points?”

“What? Slughorn? No, he went a bit teary-eyed and invited Albus _and_ Scorpius to the Slug Club.”

Harry sighed again.

“ _Why_ did he hex him?”

“That’s what I was _going_ to preface with. Karl was writing _Voldemort’s son_ on Scorpius’s trunk again. Albus told him to sod off. I hurried over to help, you know, because that’s my brother and I’m Head Boy and all…but then Karl said something I didn’t hear to Scorpius…and Albus just… _snapped_.” James hesitated. “On the bright side, it was a pretty decent hex. Not Mum-quality, but a decent start. It definitely got his message across.”

“Oh, I’m so thrilled,” Harry said sarcastically. “Well, I suppose if Slughorn—”

He never got the chance to finish. A frantic blur passed the compartment, stopped, and then doubled back. Nora peeked in, out of breath, pieces of hair spilling from her bun. The Hufflepuff Prefect was right behind her.

“Professor Longbottom!”

“Yes?” Neville asked, concerned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

The Hufflepuff Prefect doubled over, his palms pressing to the front of his thighs. He panted wildly and then reached up, gripping at an obvious stitch in his side.

“Nora—” he gasped. Nora was looking at him like he was something particularly offensive.  “Nora took—fifty points from Gryffindor!”

Neville stared. “What’s so urgent about that? You’re a Hufflepuff. Why do you care if she takes points from her own House?”

“It’s not fair! The Potter boy…sorry, Professor Potter, but it’s true…he hexed that fifth year Gryffindor!”

“Jenkins was vandalizing Scorpius Malfoy’s private property!” Nora cried.

“So Albus Potter is allowed to vandalize his _face_? With no punishment?” The Hufflepuff shot back. He turned back to Neville. “Professor Longbottom, I’ve got _serious_ concerns about Professor Slughorn! He saw it happen and he didn’t scold his students at all! Instead—he invited them to a tea party!”

Neville and Harry exchanged a quick look.

“I’ll deal with Albus,” Harry finally said, nodding reassuringly to the Hufflepuff.

He didn’t retreat. “And Nora and James? I don’t—I don’t think what Jenkins did was okay at all. But…we agreed, didn’t we, Nora and James? We promised we wouldn’t misuse our power, that we’d be sensible and just. I know he’s your little brother, but Jenkins is in a bad way…Rose Granger-Weasley’s trying to fix his face, but…”

“I’ll talk with them, too,” Harry promised. James and Nora didn’t seem very concerned. They fell down beside Neville and reached for some sweets. The Hufflepuff left, but he didn’t look reassured.

Lily stood up, about a dozen Chocolate Cauldrons bursting from her cloak pockets. She was spinning her wand between her fingers.

“And I’ll just deal with Jenkins…”

“Sit down, Lily,” Harry scowled. “He’s already been dealt with.”

Lily blinked innocently. “But James said the bat-bogey wasn’t Mum-quality. So I’ll just…top it off. It’s like what Aunt Hermione always tells you and Mum, Dad. ‘Kids need consequences and boundaries. If you don’t follow through with firm punishments, they’ll just do it again and again and again…’”

“Would _you_ like a firm punishment for ignoring me?” Harry asked loudly as she opened the compartment door.

She considered that.

“On the one hand…it might feel worth it to get to hex Jenkins. But then again…I think I’ve done enough for this month, and I don't want you to be disappointed in me again. So...no, I think I'll stay."

“Agreed, Lulu. Good choice.”

* * *

 

Harry had to seek Albus and Scorpius out; they never made an appearance in his overflowing compartment, probably out of fear of being scolded. Harry sought them out a few minutes before Horace’s ‘Slug Club meeting’ was set to begin, figuring they’d be anxiously holed up in their compartment, trying to decide whether or not to attend. He was right. He peeked through the glass and saw them sitting side-by-side in their empty compartment, heads bowed as they whispered back and forth, eyebrows drawn down. Harry could see a shinier-than-normal spot on Scorpius’s trunk, probably from where somebody had cleaned the writing off. His heart gave an abrupt ache and he forgot every lecture he’d been prepared to make.

He knocked once on the door and then slid it open. Both boys looked at him, eyes wide, breaths bated.

“Hi,” Harry greeted. He pulled handfuls of sweets from his pockets. “Chocolate frogs? Pepper Imps?”

Both boys’ shoulders sagged with relief.

“Yeah,” Albus said eagerly.

Harry entered the compartment and shut the door behind them. A few passersby stopped and gaped; Harry conjured a pair of drapes and closed them with a flick of his wand.

“Thanks,” Scorpius said, relieved. “We’ve felt like zoo animals. Did Rita Skeeter write something new about us? People are staring more than normal…”

Harry’s heart dropped. “I don’t—think so,” his mind flew to the horrible article he’d read in the bathtub the night prior. Had Rita Skeeter had the guts to actually publish that on the morning of her meeting with Hermione? Surely not. “Erm. I heard about your incident.”

Albus dropped the chocolate frog he’d just lifted like he thought it was a trick. He looked at Harry warily.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t—it’s not like I planned on doing it. It just—he said something—and it made me so _mad_ …”

Harry pushed the chocolate frog back into Albus’s hand. He sat across from the two boys.

“I’m not angry. I wish it hadn’t happened, of course, but we’ve all done it. But Al, I really want you to _try_ to act like you’re not biologically inclined to hex people, because it’ll only fuel Rita Skeeter’s vendetta against Mum, and that entire situation’s getting nasty enough as it is.”

Albus bowed his head. He scuffed the soles of his shoes against the carpet sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Scorpius set a hand on his knee.

“It’s okay,” Harry reminded him gently. “Like I said—we’ve all been there.”

Albus let out a heavy sigh. He opened his chocolate frog and let it hop away, his expression morphing into something distinctly angsty. He turned his card around.

“Great,” he said flatly. “Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore peered stoically at Albus from over his half-moon spectacles, his expression almost concerned. Scorpius laughed.

“I’ve got you, Harry!”

He turned the card around as Albus had done. Harry’s portrait slowly stepped from the frame, expression pained. Albus’s face darkened even more.

“I don’t know why I thought things would be different this year. We’re not even to Hogwarts yet and I’ve been called ‘Slytherin Squib’ three times. Scorpius has been called ‘Son of Voldemort’ four,” Albus muttered. He kicked at the worn carpet. “I’m tired of it and it’s not even the first day.”

Scorpius moved his hand from Albus’s leg. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders instead, pulling Albus into his side, his lips depressed in a small, worried frown. Harry was struggling to figure out what to say to make this better. He’d promised himself and Ginny that he wouldn’t let Albus sink so low again, but he realized now that he wasn’t really sure how to stop it from happening in the first place.

“Everybody hated me in my fifth year. For the most part. They said I was an insane, attention-seeking liar.”

Albus looked up. Harry shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his breath held as he waited for Albus to yell at him for even daring to compare their situations. But Albus merely waited. Harry continued.

“I can’t say ‘don’t let it bother you’ because of course it’s going to bother you. My best advice is to refuse to compromise. You’re Albus, and if they don’t like that—that’s their problem, not yours. They have to live with their hatred of you—why should you have to, too? Their hate is your weapon, in a way.” A pause. “I’m glad Ron isn’t here to hear that. I would never live it down.”

“I like that. They’re hurting themselves by hating us,” Scorpius declared. His cheeks were turning pink, a sign that something affectionate was coming. “And it doesn’t even matter what they think because _I_ like you, Albus.”

“Oh—and you’re the ultimate decider on what’s worth liking?” Albus demanded dryly. Harry could tell Albus was withholding a huge smile.

“Precisely! I’m Malfoy the Decided. Malfoy the…Assured. Malfoy the…Unequivocal. The…Indubitable.”

Albus blinked. “Are you quite done now, Malfoy the Thesaurus?”

“…Malfoy the Irrefragable. Now I’m done.”

Harry nodded. “There you go, Al—listen to Malfoy the Decided, Assured, Uneq—…Indud—...Irr—…Scorpius is right.”

“You’re _very_ worth liking,” Scorpius added, and the eyes he was making at Albus—well. Harry had no idea how Albus could even doubt that.

“Yeah, well. You are too, you know,” Albus muttered.

After a moment, both boys grinned at each other. Harry felt, overall, he probably deserved a seven out of ten.  

* * *

 

It was evening by the time the train arrived. Harry bid his children farewell and made his way up to the castle with Neville, who was thankfully acting as Harry’s guide. Harry knew his way around Hogwarts with his eyes shut, but he was new to the schedules and rules of the professors. Neville filled him in as they walked.

“And they changed the scheduling a few years back, I don’t know if your kids ever mentioned it. All lessons are doubled now.”

“Yeah, I saw that when McGonagall sent my schedule. Why’d they start doing that? Why not keep it the way it was—only certain electives, Potions, and Herbology doubled?”

“Lack of teachers. The Fallen Fifty...well. Things had to be changed.”

“Right,” Harry said. His stomach had twisted a bit, as it always did when he was forced to think about all that’d been lost during the Second Wizarding War. To keep the dark thoughts at bay, he managed to convince himself that he felt sick because he was starving. Only a little distance left and then he’d have a Hogwarts feast for the first time since age sixteen. “So which students should I watch out for?”

Neville hesitated. “Well, I usually don’t like to label kids as troublemakers…Hannah made me read this study once, about how labeling kids ‘bad’ _makes them_ bad…some self-fulling prophecy thing…but, between you and me…” Neville paused. He lowered his voice. “That Karl Jenkins is _cruel_. Halloran Carrow—sixth year Slytherin—has smiled _once_ in the six years he’s been here, and it was because somebody touched a Tremblyweed incorrectly and was nearly blinded. Clementine Clearwater—Ravenclaw seventh year, you know, Louis Weasley’s best friend Clementine—is…well, let’s just say you’d better make sure you know your subject inside and out, because she certainly does, and she won’t hesitate to correct you. And Roxanne Weasley…the day’s not complete unless she’s made the class succumb to five-minute long peals of disruptive laughter.”

Harry grinned, amused. “I don’t know why I’m surprised to hear two of my family members of this list. I should be bothered by that.”

“Well, to be fair, _Louis_ never does anything unpleasant. He’s just on the list by association. And…no offense intended, Harry, you know I love her…but Lily? She’s a handful to teach.”

“Trust me; she’s a handful at home,” Harry admitted. “Her second word was _no_ , which…in retrospect…should’ve been a warning sign.”

Neville was looking at him oddly. “No…I think you’ll find it’s an entirely different matter here.”

Harry frowned. “Well, how bad can she be? We hardly ever get letters home.”

“She’s not _bad_ as much as _high-maintenance._ She’s just all or nothing, you know? It takes a lot to get her full attention…she’s _always_ working on something else; I think I had her undivided attention once in her entire Herbology career thus far. But the times you _do_ get her full attention…” he trailed off. “She’s a bit relentless. And then there’s her posse. Honestly, it reminds me of you, Ron, and Hermione, if only you lot had had fewer things to worry about.”

Harry was beginning to feel nervous (and a bit embarrassed). “My first class tomorrow is Lily’s. Third year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.”

Neville reached over and patted Harry’s back firmly. “Good luck, Harry. Let’s meet in the lounge during break and we can talk about it. On the bright side—Albus and Scorpius are joys to teach. They’re quiet, respectful, and make an effort.”

“Funny—Slughorn had the opposite opinion.”

“Slughorn doesn’t respect the fact that some kids just don’t like being put on the spot or speaking up in class,” Neville shot back, uncharacteristically short. Harry got the feeling he had a few objections with Slughorn’s teaching styles. “Albus and Scorpius do fine on written material and homework. Hufflepuff’s with Slytherin for DADA, right?”

“Yes. Thank Merlin. I can’t imagine if it were Gryffindors and Slytherins together. Something tells me Rose is going to be enough to handle on her own without Albus, Scorpius, and their bullies added into the mix.”

“No, Rose is great to teach,” Neville gushed. His round face was wide with a smile. “She _always_ does her reading. She _always_ comes prepared. She’s kind and respectful to authority. You’re going to be pleasantly surprised.”

Harry smiled, relieved. He’d worried her bossiness (from Hermione) and her stubbornness (from Ron) would come across in a poor way in a classroom setting, and if he was being honest with himself, the idea of arguing with that combination of traits was terrifying.

“Another thing you’re going to find interesting—the fifth year Hufflepuffs,” Neville added.

“Yeah? Why?”

“One of the kindest students I’ve ever taught is a fifth year Hufflepuff.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Is that…out of the ordinary? I don’t know if I’ve _ever_ met a mean Hufflepuff…”

“No, but her parentage is. It’s Iset Goyle.”

Harry looked up at Neville, his eyes wide.

“ _Goyle_? Like…daughter of Gregory Goyle?” He demanded.

“Yes. And her mum’s just as discriminatory as Goyle.”

“I can’t _wait_ to see this,” Harry admitted. He wracked his brains. “I’ve got Albus’s class…third? No, second, maybe.” Maybe he should’ve written in the planner Hermione bought him, after all…

“And,” Neville continued, his grin widening. “You get to see James in action.”

Harry snorted. “I think we all saw James _in action_ enough this summer…”

“No, I mean, in the classroom. I don’t know if you know this, Harry—but your son is brilliant and I don’t think he even realizes it.”

Harry beamed. He was looking forward to his sixth and seventh year N.E.W.T classes most of all. He’d done the brunt of his lesson planning for them, pulling from decades of Auror experience. He’d kept all the lessons a secret from James, who’d made a habit of trying to sneak excited glances at them throughout the day.

“Well,” Harry began. “It’ll be interesting, without a doubt.” He looked back at Neville. “To a new year.”

Neville grinned. He slung an around across Harry’s shoulders affectionately.

“To a _great_ year! It’s good to have you back at Hogwarts, Harry.”

Harry looked up at the ever-approaching castle. “It’s good to be back.”

* * *

 

He was stuffed with all the best foods in the world: roast chicken, shepherd’s pie, baked potatoes, _treacle tart_. He could hardly walk to his office and he nearly vomited during his trip through the Floo. He was spat back out onto his ash-smeared kitchen rug, dizzy and nauseated.

“Gin,” Harry began. He screwed his eyes shut as the soot invaded; he pulled his glasses off and stepped blindly into the kitchen, rubbing frantically at his eyes to loosen the dust and soot. “Ginny? Look, you’d better not have gone to sleep because I’ve been waiting _all day_ to hear—”

He opened his eyes. He stopped. He stared dumbly at the blurry figure sitting at his kitchen table.

“To…hear…about your meeting,” he completed lamely. He hurriedly wiped his glasses lenses on his cloak and then shoved them back onto his face. It was as he'd suspected. “Draco.”

Draco Malfoy lifted a lazy hand in greeting, his white-blond head bowed over a book. The Potter’s kitchen table was covered in parchment, quills, empty ink bottles, and a vast assortment of books. Harry’s wife was sitting on the table itself, her wand held between her teeth, her expression furrowed in concentration as she angrily scrawled something onto an obscenely long length of parchment utterly full of cramped, twisting script. About half he recognized as Ginny’s handwriting and the remaining must’ve been Draco’s. Harry’s eyes drifted between the two in silence.

“What’s…going on?” he finally asked

“Oh,” Ginny said. She jumped and looked up in surprise, as if she’d been so absorbed in her task that she hadn’t even heard the Floo (which was likely). She pulled her wand from her mouth and dropped it carelessly into her forgotten seat, her face glowing with a relieved smile. “Harry! You’re back!”

He nodded, looking forward to a hug or a welcoming kiss. She thrust the length of parchment out instead.

“Can you look over this?”

Harry scowled before he could stop himself.

“We’ve been apart for almost twelve hours and that’s my greeting? ‘Harry, can you look over this’?”

She blinked, entirely unaffected by his surliness. “Okay, _darling_ —” Harry scrunched up his nose at the pet name. Draco snorted over his book pages. “How’s this: Harry, I love you madly, you’re wickedly handsome, and I’ve been _desperately_ lost without you— can you read this now, please?”

He wanted to remain irritated, but she gave him a charming grin, and he couldn’t grasp onto his fleeting annoyance quickly enough. It slipped away. He crossed over to perch at her side atop the table.

“Well, that’s all you had to say,” he said, giving into his cheeky grin. He pulled the parchment over and began scanning her writing. After rereading the first few sentences in baffled confusion, he looked up.

“Gin. Have you…drafted a _law_?”

“It’s not technically a law until it’s approved,” she answered shortly.

Harry glanced over at Draco. He was now furiously making notes in the margin of a lineage book.

“What are you doing, Draco?” Harry asked.

He didn’t even glance up. “Refreshing myself on the history of the Skeeter family.”

Harry’s heart sank. “Oh, Merlin. You’ve recruited Draco Malfoy for your Skeeter War?”

He directed the question at his wife. She snatched the parchment from Harry’s hand and began correcting words here and there.

“Draco Malfoy recruited himself. As I’m sure you’ve gathered—our meeting didn’t go well.”

Harry waited impatiently. Ginny finally set her parchment down and turned to him. She dropped her voice a bit and gave it a slightly-exaggerated poshness—her Hermione impersonation. “Rita Skeeter is well within the _current laws_ to post whatever she likes about us _and_ our underage son, as the laws haven’t evolved alongside the Muggle ones as they should’ve.”

Harry felt his heart skip a beat in his panic. “ _What_? No. Hermione wouldn’t just…give Rita Skeeter the go-ahead to say whatever she likes.”

“Oh, no,” Draco said, looking up. “She didn’t. She pointed out that creeping around on your private property _was_ illegal and threatened to have Rita Skeeter arrested if she prints anything that is reasonably suspected to have been learned about while on your property.”

Harry frowned. “But what she saw in Godric’s Hollow…”

“Not our property. Can’t do anything about it,” Ginny grumbled. “Hermione’s been working on privacy laws for a while now, but she said she’s having issues with over-worked colleagues. So. Draco and I figured we’d flood them with drafts until they are _forced_ to deal with the inconveniencing matter. You’d think this would’ve been mended a long time ago, with Rita Skeeter attacking Hermione for being a 'scarlet woman' when she was, what? Fourteen? Despicable.”

Draco and Ginny switched parchment for book. Harry realized that the law was probably more of Draco’s focus—and the article attacking Rita was probably more of Ginny’s. Ginny scanned what Draco added and cackled evilly.

“Oh, brilliant. It really helps my argument that her great-great-grandmother is suspected of theft.”

“And the spread of dragonpox,” Draco reminded her.

Ginny squinted at the margins. “Oh, yes, I see that now! _Great_.”

Harry—feeling a bit possessive, left out, and not sure he liked the fact that they were bonding over a shared enemy—stood from the table.

“Well,” he sniffed. He crossed his arms uneasily and tried to ignore the fact that his heart felt three times heavier than it had previously. All the sugar that day hadn’t helped; he still felt vaguely nauseated. And he’d really wanted a cup of tea, a shared bath, and to tell Ginny about Albus’s bat-bogey hex. “I guess I’m going to go look over my lesson plans for tomorrow...”

“What?” Ginny demanded, turning to look up at him immediately. She frowned deeply. Her eyes studied his. “Don’t go. We’ve been waiting for your help all day.”

He shrugged. “Looks like you’ve got it under control mostly, so…”

“Oh, stop that,” Ginny snapped quietly, where (hopefully) only Harry could hear. “Don’t sulk. We’ve missed each other all day and I’m going to be _really_ angry if we miss each other all night too because you’re insistent upon doing your sulky thing.” She leaned forward and grabbed her wand from the chair, waving it blindly towards the stove. A mug of tea flew over. “Here,” she snapped. “That’s yours. Peppermint and ginger. Because I’m sure you overindulged.”

She turned back to her book, her shoulders taut with annoyance. Harry held the warm mug between his hands as his mind processed the verbal smack he’d just received. He felt suddenly sheepish. He looked down at Ginny and hesitated.

“Sorry. It’s just...I _did_ miss you,” he nearly whispered, after shooting a self-conscious glance Draco’s way. If Draco heard, he didn’t show it, and he didn’t seem inclined to mock Harry. He was too busy writing so quickly that his hand was surely cramping.

Ginny reached over and set a palm on his thigh. “I missed you, too. Are you too tired to work on this? Because we can stop for the night if you are. We can just go to bed.”

Harry saw Draco lift his head from the corner of his eye. And then:

“What—all of us?”

Harry was too busy gaping to recognize that Draco had just made a joke. Ginny snorted, amused. Draco looked distinctly proud of himself.

“In your dreams, Malfoy,” Ginny quipped back. “You couldn’t keep up with us.”

Draco’s amused grin melted into a look of disgust.

“Ugh,” he said. “No, we aren’t there yet, Weasley. I don’t want _details_ about your sex life.”

Ginny shrugged, indifferent. She picked her quill back up.

“Let me know when we are there. So, Harry? What do you think?”

He eyed her warily, still _incredibly_ thrown off and disturbed by the fact that Draco Malfoy was joking in a dry, suggestive Potter-like way. What the hell was happening? He left for Hogwarts for _one day_ and came back to Draco Malfoy joking about sex at their kitchen table?

“About…what?” he asked hesitantly.

She blinked. Her face remained impassive. “About the threesome, obviously. I was thinking right here on the table, but I know you’re partial to the bed—”

Draco Malfoy snorted. Harry’s nausea peaked. He ignored Draco. “That’s not even _funny_ , Ginny, you know I’ve got a stomachache. How would you like me to vomit all over your hours of hard work?”

“I dunno, _I_ think I’m pretty funny,” she grinned. “But, for the record, I meant about working on this tonight.”

He couldn’t stay affronted. Her grin was too _Ginny_ for him to ever remain angry. He didn’t want her to know that, though, so he pretended to mull over it.

“What do you both need me to do?” He finally asked. And then, sternly, while suppressing a grin: “I mean about the Rita problem, not— ugh.”

“Oh, well, that crosses an entire _section_ off my list of requests…” Ginny frowned.

Gradually, Harry began to laugh. Draco Malfoy joined in. Soon, all three of them were sniggering, and Harry felt the tension in his chest ease. They could do this. He could do this. He could sit at a table with Draco Malfoy and they could make jokes. And it was truthfully all thanks to Albus and Scorpius.

“All you’ve got to do is embrace revenge, Harry,” Ginny told him. And that was certainly doable.

* * *

 

As soon as Draco was gone for the night, Harry rounded on Ginny. She looped her arms around his neck, beaming, indifferent to his faux stern expression.

“Draco Malfoy—our kitchen table—threesomes—a little warning would’ve been nice! I expected to come home to tea and a kiss!”

“Okay, so, no surprise threesomes. They’re not appreciated. Noted. Next time, I’ll send an owl first.”

“No! That’s not what I’m—” she was giggling into his shoulder now. He grinned for a few moments and then straightened his expression. “Ginny.”

She leaned back and peered up at him, eyes inflated with fake innocence. “Yes?”

Harry stared into her eyes. “Our son. Albus.”

Her smile faltered in concern. “Yes?”

“He bat-bogey hexed that little git who’s been bullying him since his first year.”

A wicked grin bloomed over Ginny’s face. “ _Yes!_ That’s my son,” she said proudly. She paused. “I mean—you know, it probably isn’t too great that he’s already hexed somebody, but I hexed somebody on the train at the start of my favorite year of school, so I think he can definitely still come back from this.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer to him.

“And,” he said, pausing to share a brief, long-awaited kiss, “James and Nora saw it and docked points from Gryffindor _only_.”

Ginny’s eyes drifted between his eyes and his lips, her own curled up into a delighted smile. She reached up and wiped at the sooty smudges on his face as she spoke.  

“I’m so proud of them. Albus sticking up for himself and his friends…James sticking up for his brother even though it could get him in trouble…I might tear up again.”

Harry kissed her again, lingering a beat longer this time, his arms tightening around her waist and hers disappearing into his untidy hair. He looked down at her afterward.

“Gin?”

“Hmm?”

“You and Draco, you’re just working on the Rita stuff, right? You’re just—”

She cut him off with another kiss. She flicked his forehead once she pulled back.

“I’m not indulging your stupid jealousy monster.”

“Fair enough,” Harry agreed. He tried not to either, but sometimes it got the better of him. It helped when she reminded him that it was a bit irrational. She extracted herself from his arms and set off up the stairs, motioning for him to follow.

“Besides,” she called to him, her voice light. “Everybody knows if I _was_ going to cheat, it wouldn’t be with Draco.”

“Oh, right. Obviously Luna,” he said wryly.

“Obviously.”

He followed her up the stairs and through their bedroom doorway.

“Me too, actually,” he teased.

“Yeah?” She set her hands atop his shoulders and grinned at him. “See—this is why we’re such a great match. We’ve got the same tastes. Couples who cheat together stay together—write about _that_ , Rita.”

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, his tastes began and ended with Ginny Weasley. The only traits he found attractive in others were the traits that reminded him of her. But he liked the banter too much to break it with soppiness.

“You know, I almost wish Rita _were_ overhearing this conversation. Can you imagine?” he grinned.

“Vividly,” she assured him, her palms sliding down to his chest.

“She’s going to have a go at you tomorrow, you know. I’m sure she’s already heard about Albus somehow.”

Her hands grasped at the lapels of his coat. Harry grinned as she began backing up towards the bed, dragging him along after her.

“Bring it on,” she said wickedly.

Harry pursed his lips against his laughter. He persisted: “Should we really sink down to Rita’s level?”

The back of Ginny’s thighs hit the end of their bed. She sank down onto it, her hair haloing around her in a sunny autumn array. She observed him, her eyes warm and dancing with happiness, not the least bit worried.

“No—we should dominate her level and make it _ours_ ,” she corrected.

She yanked him down with surprising force. Harry barely managed to place his palms on the mattress and catch his weight. He peered down at her a moment later, smiling and brimming with contentment. She slowly slid his glasses off and folded them, setting them neatly to the side. Harry’s stomach jolted; that was always a _wonderful_ sign. And Harry had words climbing up his throat.

“I’m so in love with you,” he blurted, stunned and stupidly, each word carrying so much emotional weight that if Rita _were_ overhearing, she’d assume he’d never said it before. Somehow, it still felt so wondrous to be _able_ to say it. He wondered if everybody thought that, or if he was just particularly thankful for this phase of his life, considering he’d never imagined he’d be lucky enough to live long enough to experience it.

There were no jokes now. Ginny—blurry and bright in his poor vision— smiled softly at him. For a brief moment, he thought he caught a tiny flicker of insecurity in her eyes, but it was difficult to tell without his glasses.

“Still?” she asked.

The words bubbled up again, deeply honest and unstoppable.

 “Until the very end.”

Their kiss was churning with so many different emotions that Harry wasn’t even sure what he felt, beyond _full_. And then Ginny mumbled words against his lips.

“I think Hogwarts makes you sentimental. And I think I sort of like it.”

He didn’t need to be able to make out her expression with any real clarity; he’d long ago learned how to feel her moods—a necessity when your vision’s useless without glasses. There was such affection coming off of her in warm, sweeping waves that every bit of insecurity inside of Harry melted. He could’ve told her that he was truly this sentimental _always_ , but he figured she probably knew that, too. Just like he knew she was as well.

“I like it, too,” he mumbled instead.

Tomorrow would be new, and exciting, and possibly disastrous. But no matter what happened, he’d have this constant to look forward to: his wife, their bed, their home, her love. It was one of the things he loved most about finally having a family. And sometimes—often times, actually, more than he’d ever thought possible—she made him feel certain that he deserved every bit of it.


	4. Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Scorpius discover the benefits of being without parental supervision. Ginny and Rita go head-to-head. Outside events plague the Potter children in a way they weren't expecting. Scorpius's penchant for healing comes in handy. And Draco Malfoy readies himself to say 'I told you so'.

“So what _is_ football?”

Scorpius hopped up the final stair leading towards the fifth year boys’ dormitory. He spun around to face his dorm mate, grinning as he advanced backwards into their dorm. Albus—from their dorm mate’s side—began an animated explanation of it immediately.

“It’s brilliant! It’s sort of like Quidditch.”

“Yeah, certain positions correspond to Quidditch ones,” Scorpius added. He fell down onto the edge of his bed. “Like Keeper and goalkeeper.”

Sigmund Stone nodded. He considered that carefully.

“But…without brooms?”

Scorpius and Albus exchanged a quick, amused look.

“Right,” Scorpius nodded. “Without brooms. And you _kick_ the ball—no hands allowed!”

“Wow,” Sig commented. He began rummaging through his trunk. “So many rules.”

“It’s actually simpler than Quidditch, just doesn’t seem like it at first,” Albus said. He dropped to the edge of his bed and promptly sprawled out on his back. Scorpius felt warmth pool in his cheeks as Albus’s shirt rode up, revealing a brief expanse of skin. “Scorpius. I knew that second helping of banoffee pie was a bad idea. Why did I listen to you?” he groaned. He rubbed over his temporarily protruding stomach. Scorpius wasn’t sure why he found it so endearing, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be at Albus’s side.

He rose to do just that, but a suspicious look from Saul Montague stopped him in his tracks. Scorpius hesitated for an awkward moment and then walked over to his trunk, as if that’d been his intention all along. He could feel Albus’s eyes on him as he rummaged through it for something, anything…

“Here,” he said, relieved. He pulled the football book from his trunk and turned, passing it to Sig. “This explains all about it!”

Sigmund took the book, but a moment later, he jumped, alarmed.

“What?” Scorpius asked. “Is there a bug?! Is it a spider? I think my Pygmy Puff will eat spiders…give it here…”

“No, it’s just—these photos don’t move,” Sig whispered, amazed.

There was a pause. And then the other two boys in the dorm walked over, curious. Malcolm Bletchley found it fascinating; he kept tapping the photos as if he thought that would make them move. Omri Bigelow—a muggleborn—was crowded around simply to watch their dorm mates’ expressions. Even Saul looked a bit intrigued. Scorpius took advantage of their distraction and edged his way over to Albus bit by bit, trying his hardest to look casual. He perched on the edge of Albus’s bed. Albus sat up slowly and propped himself up on his elbows, grinning automatically at Scorpius. Scorpius’s heart fluttered.

“Hey,” Scorpius greeted.

“Hey,” Albus shot back.

“How are you?” Scorpius asked. He was trying so hard to sound casual and _normal_ that his words sounded oddly formal. He winced. Albus furrowed his brow.

“…Fine?”

“Yeah? Great. Er…nice weather, right?”

He turned and looked at the window. They were under the lake. All they could see was water. Scorpius’s face burned.

“Are you okay?” Albus hissed towards him. He leaned in closer, bringing his mouth in dangerous proximity to Scorpius’s. Scorpius allowed himself one moment to look at his lips, and then he leaned back, putting distance between them. “You’re being weird, Scorpius.”

“Yes. Fine. Just fine,” Scorpius squeaked. “Not weird. Just—friends. Friendy-friends. Friends talk about…’how are you’ and ‘how’s the weather’ and…” he trailed off. He couldn’t think of what else friends said to each other. He and Albus weren’t just friends and he didn’t think they ever _had_ been; even when they were ‘friends’ they were more than that, they were _best_ friends. He and Albus had decided to try and keep things hush on the train ride, but Scorpius was realizing now that he had no idea how to do that, because he didn’t think they’d _ever_ been discreet about their feelings for each other. What could he talk to Albus about, if he couldn’t talk about how important he was to him, or how beautiful he was, or how nice he smelled? “Classes. How about classes, right?”

Albus stared. After a long moment and a quick look at their otherwise occupied dorm mates, he leaned in close.  

“This isn’t going to work, is it?” he hissed, his green eyes studying Scorpius’s.  

Scorpius shook his head, a fake, nearly manic smile still plastered on his face. He was afraid to let it fall.  

“No,” he grinned painfully. “Not at all. Not even a little bit. I am suffering, actually, and it’s only been a couple of hours, which probably says something not-so-great about me.”

Albus relaxed. “Me too. This is awful.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius agreed fervently. He lifted his hands up and stared hard at them. “I don’t know what to do with these anymore. They feel like dead weight.” His thoughts drifted to dinner. For once, their dorm mates had actually made an effort to sit near them and talk with them (no doubt in response to the series of articles Rita had run over that summer making them seem cooler than they actually were). Scorpius had spent the entire meal trying his hardest not to touch Albus anymore than strictly necessary, but he couldn’t help the fact that both their faces reddened anytime they did touch. He’d never been so hyper aware of the exact space between himself and something else as he’d been of the space between his skin and Albus’s. After over a month of slowly learning to comfortably act on his urges to touch Albus, it was a bit jarring to suddenly find himself in a situation where they were trying not to touch at all. And, to be fair, they could’ve gotten away with a few casual touches…but Scorpius wasn’t sure he trusted either of them to be able to leave it at that.

“So what should we do?” Albus hissed. Their dorm mates had lost interest in the book and we’re drifting back to their respective beds. Scorpius jumped about six inches back from Albus when Omri glanced their way (which, in retrospect, probably looked more suspicious than them lounging closely). Omri furrowed his brow but didn’t say anything. He turned back to his trunk and resumed sorting through his items.

Scorpius cleared his throat and looked back at Albus.

“I don’t know. I mean, you know, what we said on the train still stands…people are going to be mean.”

“They’re always mean.”

“But…” Scorpius trailed off, picturing the furious look that’d washed over Albus’s face right before he hexed Karl. “I thought you were worried about how mean everybody’s being already…”

“I was. But, honestly, Scorpius? I think staying away from you would be far worse.”

Scorpius didn’t know what was more pleasing: Albus’s words or the intense, serious aura about him as he delivered them. His cheeks only barely pinked. Scorpius felt a familiar thrill jolt low in his belly. He loved blushing Albus, cute Albus—but he was enamored with _this_ Albus. Confident, certain, intense. It made Scorpius’s heart swell in an entirely different way than it usually did, in a way that was almost uncomfortable. In a way that made everything in his chest feel _too tight_ —like there wasn’t enough room. In a way that made him feel a new desperation to touch Albus, one that was demanding and almost frantic, because he had this strange notion that touching him would make the pressure better. He had yet to try it, and he’d yet to come across a book that described what he was feeling, so as far as he knew, he was mad. And he didn’t know what to do with any of it. So he fidgeted with his fingers, nervously tapped his heels against the floor, and avoided Albus’s eyes. At least until his heart _stopped that_. At least until the mere thought of pressing his lips to Albus’s no longer made him nearly shiver.

“It would. Being away from you,” he blurted, realizing that he’d been quiet for far too long. He glanced at Albus. He promptly looked away. Intense eyes again. Scorpius couldn’t handle the intense eyes. Why did Albus keep doing that? Did he _know_ he was doing it? Scorpius’s fidgeting got worse as his frustration turned into frenetic energy. He shot another sideways glance at Albus. “Stop, please, with the—with the—you know.”

Albus’s eyes gradually softened. His head cocked to the right a tiny bit, his brow furrowing. “What?”

“The—you know.”

“The ‘ _you know’_? What happened to Malfoy the Thesaurus?”

“He’s writhing in torment right now, please call again later.” A pause. Scorpius dared to scoot a tiny bit closer. He ducked his burning face. “Your eyes. You know.”

Albus did not know. When Scorpius met his eyes, Albus looked incredibly confused.

“My eyes?” He frowned. He lifted a hand up and covered them for a moment. “You don’t like them?”

“No—I _love_ them!” He assured Albus, stunned by the mere suggestion. He could feel Saul’s eyes on him, but that didn’t matter. He had to make sure that Albus knew he liked his eyes. “They’re great. Everything about you—” there was now a slow smile forming on Albus’s face and a blush on Scorpius’s “—everything’s great.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Albus persisted. “I’m confused.”

“They’re…” he trailed off. Immediately, a slew of adjectives took root in his mind: _hot, burning, smoldering, intense, magnetic, sexy._ Uh oh. “Oh.”

“ _What_?” Albus demanded, annoyed.

Scorpius reached up and buried his red face into his hands. “Nothing.”

“Really, er, because it sort of, you know. Seems like something?” Albus pressed, skeptical.

“Er…” Scorpius slid from Albus’s bed. He needed to be away from him—immediately. “Teeth. My teeth. I should brush them. All of them. Right now.”

He accidentally knocked into the edge of Albus’s four-poster in his rush to escape his arousal. He hobbled towards the door leading to the bathroom, limping, his arousal trailing right on behind him. _Go away, go away, go away_ —

“Malfoy,” Sig called loudly. Laughter was brimming in his tone. “Don’t you need a toothbrush?”

“Yeah, you all right, Malfoy?” Omri added, snickering. “Need us to leave for a moment? You’re looking a bit randy.”

Scorpius jumped a couple inches into the air. He was so red that he could feel his pulse thrumming in his face as all his blood migrated there.

“I—! I am—not!” Scorpius shot a quick look towards Albus. Oddly, Albus looked entirely relieved and— _oh Merlin—_ had a tiny grin in place. “I. Forgot. My. Toothbrush.”

Scorpius could feel everybody’s eyes on him as he hurried over. He wanted to crawl into his trunk and shut the lid on himself.

“Malfoy, Potter,” Omri began. His deep voice was brimming with withheld laughter. “I know we’re not Ravenclaws, but we’re far from idiots.”

Scorpius looked up in shock. He watched Omri and Sig collapse into fits. Malcolm joined in shortly after, leaving only Saul looking at Scorpius like he was inherently disgusting, but then again—he’d always sort of looked at him that way. Scorpius glanced towards Albus. Albus looked back at him.

“So much for that,” Albus shrugged. They shared a shy grin.

* * *

 

Scorpius was _exhausted_ , but when Albus joined him in the bathroom and suggested they go down into the common room, he wasn’t even the slightest bit inclined to say no.

Being the first night back, it was fuller than it usually was. Groups of threes and fours were piled atop of sofas, couples were sitting together in singular chairs, the entire group of seventh years was engaged in a Gobstones competition. Scorpius and Albus made their way to their customary seat—a leather sofa against the far wall, just beneath the massive window the Giant Squid frequented during his daily swims. Scorpius plopped down onto the left; Albus plopped down onto the right. After a brief moment, they met eyes and slid over to meet in the middle.

“I can’t believe they’ve known all along.”

“I can,” Scorpius admitted.

Albus laughed. “Okay, yeah, I suppose I can, too. Do you think things’ll be weird now?”

“Our dorm has _always_ been weird. They’ve talked to us more today than they did all last year combined.”

“Fair point.”

Scorpius felt Albus’s touch at his waist. After a moment, he wedged his arm between Scorpius’s back and the cushions of the couch. He held onto him. Scorpius beamed like an idiot towards the fire and shifted closer to Albus’s side. After digging around himself for a bit of bravery, he reached over and set a palm on Albus’s thigh. The little jump Albus gave made Scorpius’s heart jolt along with it.

They avoided eyes. Somehow, Scorpius knew they’d realized the same thing: if they looked at each other now, they’d end up snogging in the corner of the common room.

Albus sucked in a short breath. Scorpius glanced towards him from the corner of his eye. Albus looked to be considering something.

“Do you remember what my dad said on the train?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve forgotten one thing your dad has ever said,” Scorpius admitted.

Albus scrunched up his nose. Scorpius quickly explained himself.

“I mean—! You know, he’s Harry Potter. He makes impressive speeches from time to time. It’s interesting.”

“Right,” Albus said. “Well. I was thinking about it. About what he said.”

“That it’s everybody else’s problem if they don’t like us?” Scorpius guessed.

“Exactly. And…” he took another deep breath. “I think we should take that advice, all or nothing.”

Scorpius waited. Albus couldn’t meet his eyes.

“As in… _us_. Not just us, like you and me. _Us_.” Albus paused. He pointed across the common room. When Scorpius glanced over, he saw a sixth year boy and girl snogging madly in a dark corner. “They can do that. Nobody cares. Nobody even _notices_. Why can’t we?”

Scorpius opened his mouth to respond. The answer seemed simple. But then he closed his lips, because the more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

“I guess…well…”

He felt abruptly uncomfortable and guilty, and he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t like the feeling. He shifted even closer to Albus in hopes that it would help.

“It’s because we’re boys,” Albus answered for him. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“My dad said some people would be mean about that,” Scorpius admitted.

“Mine, too. When he talked to me about—” Albus broke off. He turned Weasley red again. Scorpius looked down at him in interest, but Albus didn’t continue that train of thought. “I thought it was stupid.”

“It is stupid.”

“But do you remember ever seeing two boys kissing in public? Because I don’t. I didn’t even know that was something that _happened_ , you know?”

“I did,” Scorpius admitted. “But, well. In books. Not real people.”

“Oh,” Albus said. He loosened his hold on Scorpius’s waist for a moment, just so he could turn to face him. Scorpius did the same. Their knees brushed. “I didn’t know until I was nine when my mum let me go with her and James to drop Nora’s Christmas gift off.”

Scorpius felt instantly better, though he wasn’t sure why. He smiled widely.

“Dean and Seamus! They’re together, you know. Like us. Well—not just like us, they’ve got a house and a daughter and Dean can paint and he has an art studio and I surely _cannot_ paint but—” Albus was looking at him with soft, amused eyes. Scorpius hesitated. “Carry on.”

“Yeah, and honestly…after that day…my obsession with Brazilian Chaser Gonçalo Flores made a lot more sense…”

Scorpius snickered. “Nothing much to do with Quidditch, huh?”

“Yeah—not really, as it turns out,” Albus admitted, grinning.

A comfortable silence settled over them. Scorpius stifled a yawn into his palm. He blinked tiredly down at Albus.

“So what you’re saying is…we should be like the couple in the corner.”

Albus looked back at them.

“Yes. Well—sort of. I think they might be…ugh, well, let’s just say some things should be private. But maybe not _everything_.”

Scorpius shot a curious look the couple’s way. He immediately looked away.

“Oh my! Is that allowed?!”

“Almost certainly not.”

They shared a grimace. Scorpius was feeling better—that weird wave of sadness he’d felt at the start had gone, and once it had, he couldn’t even remember where it’d come from or why he’d had it.

“Okay. I’m ready. I agree. We’re going to get bullied mercilessly. But, well…bring it on.”

Albus beamed. “Yeah? You’re sure? You’re ready for the ‘twisted, forbidden love’ comments?”

“I was sure that I was. And then we got here. And I saw how upset their words made you, so then I wasn’t so sure. But now you seem sure. So I’m sure,” he rambled. “I just want…well, Albus, I’m okay as long as I’ve got you. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Albus laughed. Scorpius smiled down at him, a bit confused.

“What?”

Albus shot a quick look around the common room, and then with his lips still curled up into a smile, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Scorpius’s. His stomach lurched. He reached up to touch Albus—to hold his face in his hands, to cup the back of his neck, _something_ —but Albus leaned back before he could. He was still grinning.

“ _You’re_ what _I’ve_ been worried about,” Albus said.

“Oh,” Scorpius grinned. “Well—that’s silly. We should communicate more efficiently.”

“I’ll make note of that. Hey—why don’t you put it in the planner my aunt gave you? You’ve put everything else into it,” he teased.

Scorpius sniffed. “I won’t apologize for my organization, Albus.”

“No—I’d never expect you to.”

They held their eye contact for a moment. Albus’s eyes were beginning to do that thing.

“That!”

“What?”

“Your eyes, Albus. You make them… _smoldering_. And I think you’re doing it to drive me mad.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Albus said, “but if it drives you mad, I’m probably glad I’m doing it.”

Flirty Albus. There he was. Fleeting, quick, always gone too soon. Scorpius licked his lips and struggled to gather his scrambling thoughts. For a moment, all he could think about was his boyfriend’s eyes paired with that tiny smirk…

He had no idea what his own face was doing, but whatever it was, Albus seemed to like it. He leaned closer, his eyes studying Scorpius’s intently.

“You know. Sig went to sleep already. And everybody else…” he gestured around the common room. Scorpius’s eyes jumped from person to person until he’d accounted for every other fifth-year boy. He gulped, pleased and a bit nervous.

“Cuddling?” he asked. His voice was higher than it needed to be. Albus hesitated for a moment. He looked down at his lap shyly.

“Yeah. Or—kissing?”

Scorpius’s heart was soaring. How had the day gone from getting bullied on the train to _this_? He nearly had whiplash from the transition. Scorpius stood immediately.

“I firmly support that suggestion.”

“I’m glad you support it,” Albus said, jumping to his feet, too. “It was one of my better ones.”

“It was. Sometimes your suggestions are rubbish. ‘Let’s go back in time’, ‘Let’s try to say hello to Rose and her evil Gryffindor friends on the train’, ‘Let’s see who can eat the most Pepper Imps in one sitting without their head melting’. But _this_ is a great one.”

“Hey—all my suggestions are brilliant...if you squint...”

“Right…we just won’t mention our fourth year at all, then.”

* * *

 

They tip-toed into the dark dormitory. The lights were out, Sig’s bed hangings were drawn, and the faint, shifting green light from the lake filled the room and made everything feel calm. Scorpius and Albus hesitated at the divide between the ends of each other’s beds.

“Mine?”

“Here?”

They stifled laughter. Scorpius pulled shyly on Albus’s hand.

“Mine—the bed hangings don’t hang wonky like yours do.”

“Oh, right,” Albus said. There was a brief moment of hesitation. They both pushed through it, fell down on top of Scorpius’s covers, and then wrenched the hangings shut. The shimmering light faded. They were plunged into near darkness.

Somehow, lying side-by-side felt more intimate here than it had at Scorpius’s house or Albus’s. Maybe it was the fact that it was a single bed. Maybe it was the secrecy of it. Or maybe it was simply because they were both fully realizing that they had no supervision. There were no parents to pop in on them from time to time. No siblings to tease them. Resting there together on Scorpius’s bed, sharing the darkness and the silence together, they could’ve been invisible.

“This feels different,” Scorpius whispered.

Albus turned over onto his side. Scorpius did, too, so they were facing each other. He could only barely make out the outline of Albus’s face, and that was only because of the aquatic light drifting down from above them, but that didn’t seem to matter much.

“Yeah,” Albus agreed.

Scorpius smiled. “I like it.”

In response, Albus shifted closer. The darkness was playing with Scorpius’s ability to perceive distance, so he closed his eyes. He didn’t look, he didn’t fret, he didn’t try to read every shift of Albus’s expression. Instead, he felt. He felt the soft brush of Albus’s breaths against his lips. He felt the warmth emitting from Albus’s body. And when he reached over and placed a hesitant palm flat against Albus’s chest, he felt his racing heart. He slid his face forward a tiny bit. Albus did, too. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he felt the smallest of brushes against his lips by Albus’s. He felt his toes curl ridiculously (he would take _that_ to his grave).

“Oh,” he heard Albus comment, breathless and soft. And Flirty Albus was lovely, and Smoldering Albus was exciting, but maybe Soft Albus was Scorpius’s secret favorite after all, because at that small exclamation, Scorpius went a bit mad. It felt like his chest had opened up, releasing a frantic energy he’d tried so _hard_ to quell, and before he could make an effort to remind himself to _tone down_ , he had his mouth back on Albus’s and his fingers clenched around the front of his robes.

There were probably three separate versions of Scorpius, too. And to Scorpius’s utmost surprise—this was one of them. This was one that Albus was meeting for the very first time. And he couldn’t worry about whether or not Albus would like it, because…well, he certainly _seemed_ to be. Scorpius didn’t know where he’d borrowed the guts from. He didn’t know where he’d borrowed the _knowledge_ from. It was possible that he had neither of those and was simply exploding from repressed arousal. But he was snogging his boyfriend and nothing about it felt alien. He was snogging his boyfriend…and if the sudden leg hooked over his and the fingers fisted in his hair meant anything…he was doing a good job.

It looked repulsive when anybody else was doing it. But he couldn’t find anything gross about the taste of Albus’s mouth. He couldn’t feel any pain in the occasional nose-bump. And there was nothing uncomfortable at all about their bodies pressed together. What there was, though, was intensity—and Scorpius didn’t want it to overwhelm him. He was afraid to lose control of himself. He was afraid to open a door he wasn’t planning on opening yet (even if his body and mind might’ve been a little bit combative over that differing opinion). And yet…Albus’s hand had untucked his shirt, had slid beneath the buttons and the fabric. He could feel the skin of Albus’s palm radiating warmth along his belly. It seemed like such a good idea, because he wanted Albus to feel the same tingles he’d felt when skin met skin, so he fumbled with Albus’s shirt and slid his hands up it. His heart was near to bursting now, his palms brushing along Albus’s skin, and Albus broke his mouth away from Scorpius’s to let out a little breathy noise—

“Ah!” Albus flinched wildly and darted back from Scorpius, nearly tumbling right off the edge of the bed. He flailed widely and then reached forward, grasping at Scorpius’s reaching hand. Scorpius dragged him back beside him, bewildered, embarrassed.

“Er…is that too much? Is that not okay? I’m sorry. I should’ve…I just…”

Albus's cheeks felt warm when he leaned in to kiss Scorpius’s mouth.

“Fine. It’s just…” he seemed reluctant to say something. Scorpius thought he knew what he meant.

“It’s okay. Me too, obviously...I…” _say it. You can do it, Malfoy. Malfoy the Unanxious. Malfoy the Socially Unanxious_. In some universe, maybe. “Don’t mind. Not even…a little bit. Actually…I, er, would be…really _okay with…_ ”

Maybe it was Scorpius’s imagination, but Albus seemed to be radiating more body heat than usual.

“Oh,” he said, his voice high. “No. That’s not what—well, of course that—what I mean to say is…”

 _Communicate more efficiently_. That was one of their new goals. Albus seemed to remember that.

“…I’m ticklish,” he whispered.

Scorpius didn’t move for a beat.

“You’re ticklish.”

“…yeah. Just a bit. Over my ribs, you know…”

“That was…not what I expected,” Scorpius admitted. His trunk was looking cozier and cozier as a place to spend the rest of term. He tried to find something to say to salvage the embarrassing miscommunication, but Albus seemed to decide there was no need for it. His lips pressed back to Scorpius’s after a brief moment, and well. That was that. _He_ didn’t seem embarrassed.

* * *

 

They overshot. It was a problem.

“What do we do?” Scorpius breathed.

Albus seemed afraid to move. They listened with baited breath as their dorm mates conversed, shoes dropped to the floor, trunks slammed and opened, and covers were pulled back. They’d planned on going their separate ways before their dorm mates returned (it was one thing for them to know they were in a relationship…it was another for them to know they’d been snogging in bed together. Both Albus and Scorpius felt _that_ was one of the things that should remain private). Unfortunately, they’d been wrapped up in each other until the door opened, and now they were stuck.

“We’ll just have to wait until they fall asleep,” Albus whispered.

Scorpius yawned. His eyelids felt terribly heavy, and Albus was warm, and the pillow had already perfectly formed to the shape of both their heads. He nodded, but deep down, he just wanted Albus to stay.

“Okay…I’ll—” he yawned “—wait with you.”

Albus’s eyelids drifted shut. “Okay…”

Scorpius snuggled down into the blankets, still warm from their shared body heat. He rolled over onto his right side automatically, his eyes drifting shut and his mind slowly and steadily sinking towards unconsciousness. He had a series of sleep-soaked, hazy thoughts as he drifted off: Albus’s bat-bogey hex, _son of Voldemort_ , the way their hands had brushed on their walk down to the Slytherin common room, the feel of Albus’s hands on his chest and the softness of his mouth…

“Where the hell is Albus?” Omri asked.

He vaguely comprehended the question, but was half-asleep and couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Three guesses, two words, if you don’t get it on the first try, I’ll hex your stupid arse,” Malcolm hissed back.

“Easy. ‘Not here’.” Omri shot back. “Idiot.”

“…Damn it. Not the two words I was thinking, but true nonetheless,” Malcolm said fairly. 

“What two words were you—”

“Would you two shut up before I glue your lips shut?” Saul snapped. “Every bloody night. Every night! I hate my house.”

“Cool, Saul.”

“Psst…Sig…wake up…”

“ _No_!” Saul hissed. “Don’t wake him!”

“But…”

“ _No_.”

Finally, silence. Until:

“Scorpius’s bed. Those are the two words, Omri, you oblivious idiot,” Malcolm sniggered.

Scorpius thought he may’ve heard somebody getting hexed, but he was asleep before he could comprehend much of it.

* * *

 

He was burning up and drenched with sweat when he woke. He could hear shuffling as his dorm mates rose. The room was a warmer green, thanks to the few sun rays able to pierce this deep into the lake. The sparse rays always glittered on the walls this early in the mornings. Most noticeable of all, though, was the _reason_ he was sweating: he wasn’t alone.

Albus had either fallen asleep before their dorm mates did or had decided not to leave. Scorpius’s heart automatically picked up pace as he took stock of Albus. His body was curled around Scorpius’s, chest to back, hips to bum. Albus’s face was pressed into the back of Scorpius’s neck, and his arms seemed to be in uncomfortable positions: one thrown limply over Scorpius’s waist, another wedged beneath their heads. Scorpius didn’t remember cuddling up like this before bed, but at _some point_ he must’ve encouraged it, because they were wrapped up too tightly for it to have just happened on its own during sleep. Scorpius needed the toilet, but the thought of moving was laughable. There were too many lovely things about their current position, and besides; he wouldn’t mind drifting back off for a couple more minutes of sleep.

He did just that. He slipped in and out of his dreams as all his dorm mates gradually rose and headed down for breakfast. Once he was certain that they were alone, he stretched and regretfully disentangled himself from Albus. Albus stirred seconds later.

“Ugh…” he groaned. He lifted the arm that’d been beneath them, but it was an odd, floppy movement. His green eyes shot open a moment later. His arm dropped back to the mattress like it was full of rocks. “Damn it! Ouch!”

“Arm fell asleep?” Scorpius guessed.

Albus was too busy cursing and shaking his arm to respond. Scorpius watched him, amused, heart already swelling with affection. After a few more moments, the pins and needles seemed to have faded, because Albus relaxed back onto the bed. He peered tiredly at Scorpius.

“Not a great way to wake up.”

“Speak for yourself,” Scorpius shot back, without even thinking about it. “We were cuddled perfectly when I woke.”

“That’s because _somebody_ was briefly possessed by a koala last night.” 

“Who? _Me_?” Scorpius said, surprised.

“No—the other person in the bed with us,” Albus rolled his eyes. “I vividly remember thinking: ‘this is what a very loved and lucky teddy bear feels like’ at some point last night.”

“Oh…sorry? Was it annoying?” Scorpius worried. “I didn’t even realize…I was sleepier than I thought…”

“Well, I didn’t leave the bed. That should tell you something.”

Scorpius mulled over that. Albus smiled one of his soft smiles. Scorpius smiled back. For a wicked moment, he had the urge to share every detail about just _how_ lovely their position upon waking had been but quickly squashed that idea. Naughty Scorpius was what he was going to call this part of himself from now on, and Naughty Scorpius was certainly going to be a handful to deal with this year if last night was any indication.

* * *

 

Half the heads in the Great Hall turned to them when they entered. Scorpius froze.

“Uh oh,” he said.

“Er…let’s just…quickly sit at the end…” Albus suggested, wilting underneath the public’s gaze. He seized Scorpius’s hand and yanked, attempting to pull them quickly to the end of the Slytherin table, but their path was blocked by Evvie Wilson, Slytherin seventh year and Head Girl.

“Albus,” she greeted. “Scorpius.”

“Evvie,” they shot back. Albus pulled Scorpius to the right, trying to step past the older girl, but she countered his movement and refused to let him pass.

“James wants to talk to you,” Evvie said. “He’s in the library. I’ll take you.”

“James can wait,” Albus shot back. “I’m starving.”

“Would you stop?” Evvie snapped. She hardly lost her temper, but when she did, it was frightening; Scorpius remembered seeing her go off on a pair of Ravenclaw third years last year when she was a Prefect. “Listen. The _Prophet_ printed something this morning. Well…many things, actually.”

 _That_ did the trick. Albus stopped trying to brush past the Head Girl. Scorpius froze.

“What do you mean?” Albus asked quickly.

Before Evvie could respond, Harry appeared. He nodded once at Evvie. Harry waved his wand quickly at the table, summoned an entire plate of pastries, and then nodded towards the doorway.

“My office for breakfast?” he suggested lightly.

“Oh, no. What’s happened?”

“Come along.”

Scorpius and Albus trailed nervously after Harry. He didn’t say a word to them until they were inside of his office. Scorpius was too nervous to even take the time to look around at much. He fell down into one of the armchairs across from Harry’s desk and stared.

“What, Dad?” Albus demanded.

In response, Harry pulled a rolled up copy of that morning’s _Prophet_ from his jacket. He slid it across the desk.

“Read it,” he urged them.

Albus and Scorpius leaned forward. Albus pulled the newspaper from the desk and slowly unrolled it. To their horror, they found themselves staring at a photo of _themselves_ , sitting closely together on the back of the motorbike. “A Dangerous Duo: Potter and Malfoy’s Toxic Relationship”. Scorpius was horrified.

“Dangerous… _toxic_ …?”

“Read it,” Harry prompted again, but his voice was gentle this time. That was not a good sign.

Scorpius and Albus leaned in together, their eyes scanning steadily down the disgusting article. Scorpius felt his stomach bottom out.

“My dad is _not—!_ My dad _never_ —!” he glanced at Albus, his heart aching. “I would _never_ hurt Albus.”

When he scanned a line accusing his dad of having a hand in his mother’s death, he flinched back from the newspaper. His eyes burned. Albus balled it up a moment later and flung it across the office. His temper was rising dangerously.

“What the bloody hell is that?!” he yelled at Harry.

“A whole lot of rubbish, basically.”

He pushed the armchair back angrily. It made a shrieking noise as it scraped the wooden floors. He began pacing angrily. Scorpius was thinking about his dad. Had he seen this? Did he know what they’d said about him? About _Mum_? Scorpius wanted to cry, but not there.

Albus spun around to face Harry.

“Why did _Mum_ let her do this?!” he yelled. Scorpius twisted around, surprised by the accusations in Albus’s tone. For a moment, he had the ridiculous urge to defend Albus’s mum against _Albus_.

“Don’t you dare blame your mum for this,” Harry snapped. His firmness drew Albus’s angry pacing to a stop. “She’s done everything she could. The laws, unfortunately, give Skeeter more rights than she deserves. Here—” he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a glossy copy of _Witch Weekly_. “She took up a second job because of it.”

Scorpius leaned forward, but Albus snatched the magazine up before he could see it.

“A second job, what does that have to—” he stopped. He looked up. “Since when does Mum write for _Witch Weekly_? She hates _Witch Weekly._ ”

“She hates Rita Skeeter more.”

Albus walked back over and sank into the chair beside Scorpius’s. He leaned in so Scorpius could see the cover. Scorpius found himself staring at a rather unflattering photo of Rita, bent over a notepad and laughing evilly. Albus read out the headline.

“‘Potters, Malfoys, and the Truth: Why Rita Skeeter is an Immoral, Narcissistic Liar.”

Scorpius blinked. “Well…that’ll certainly get people’s attention. Can we read it?”

“Oh—she’d be gutted if you didn’t. By all means.”

Albus opened the magazine to the indicated page. They began reading silently. 

_Potters, Malfoys, and the Truth: Why Rita Skeeter is an Immoral, Narcissistic Liar  
by: Ginny Potter_

_On Saturday night, I punched Rita Skeeter in the face, and I wish I punched her twice. She reports that I ‘came at her in an emotional, unstable rage’—she is correct. She writes: ‘Mrs. Potter was beside herself with anger, was yearning to inflict serious bodily harm on me […] without cessation’—this is correct, too. I admit this because I, unlike Rita Skeeter, am not a disgusting, filthy liar. I admit I hexed her at the 2014 Quidditch World Cup Final. I admit I burned a certain article before she could publish it in 2010. I even admit that I was the one who bewitched her quill in the style of a particularly crude romance novelist. But here is what Rita Skeeter won’t tell you; here are a few of the things she’s done to deserve these retaliations._

_In June of 1995, my husband—aged fourteen at the time, and obviously not my husband then— witnessed the death of Cedric Diggory and the rebirth of Lord Voldemort. Though the_ Prophet _loathes reminding its readers, from this point on until the end of the Second Wizarding War the government and the press turned against Harry during the time its support would have meant the most. Rita Skeeter was the catalyst to the subsequent defamation that Harry experienced from ages fourteen to nearly eighteen. Skeeter was the first to spread the horrific lie that he was ‘disturbed and dangerous’ and ‘attention-seeking’; she is the reason that lie is still juggled from rubbish journalist to rubbish journalist every few months to this day. Did Rita Skeeter realize what that poison-pen article would cause? Did she know that it would ultimately lead to the Ministry and the Wizarding world ignoring Harry’s warning, ignoring Albus Dumbledore’s warnings, and therefore allowing Voldemort to take over the Ministry and gain greater momentum? I am personally inclined to say that Rita Skeeter long ago lost the ability to see beyond the end of her own nose but do remember that I am biased._

_June of 1998. Rita Skeeter manipulated and disguised her way into my late brother, Fred Weasley’s, funeral. She sat a row behind my grieving family and took notes the entire time—we never knew. A week later, she published one of her most despicable articles to date, in which she claimed that I blamed Harry Potter for my brother’s death. She used extremely personal photos from the funeral to support her claim. She published a second article claiming that I had been seen ‘hiding’ from an unstable and obsessive Harry in Neville Longbottom’s arms—two accusations that would follow Harry and me around for months and complicate Neville Longbottom’s personal life extensively._

_In November of 1998, Skeeter published her “biography” about Harry, entitled_ The Boy Who Lived, _in which she, among many other things, claimed that Harry was emotionally and mentally addled, accused him of being unfit to reenter society, and—my personal favorite—dedicated an entire chapter to my ‘manipulative relationship’ with Harry Potter. I am sure many of you have copies of_ The Boy Who Lived _on your shelves. And I would wager not many of you stopped to wonder how Rita got all of her ‘exclusive information’. It is nice to imagine that she was crafty enough to find many close sources, but the frank reality is that Harry and I do not have_ any _people close to us who would ever speak a word to Rita Skeeter. That is true today, and that was true in 1998. Rita did not hold professional interviews with the people close to us as she claimed; she instead stalked us, trespassed on private property, and stole personal letters and items from our homes._

_Harry and I were married in August of 2001. Rita Skeeter waited outside of the wards until the ceremony was over and followed us to our honeymoon destination. I hexed her magnificently. She ran the first of many articles about how ‘unstable and hotheaded’ I am, which came into play in a rather nasty way only a few years later._

_In August of 2002, Rita Skeeter ran a particularly creative article accusing me of having an affair with Gwenog Jones. While I was extremely flattered that the Wizarding world thought I was attractive enough for Gwenog, the resulting six months of abusive letters were not as enjoyable. Three months after this, Rita Skeeter wrote an article “exposing” Harry’s affair with Gwenog Jones. I was confused, Harry was confused, the world was confused. I thought_ I _was the one having an affair with Gwenog? Time continued on. We thought it was over. We took a photo with Gwenog at a Harpies’ Christmas party—big mistake. Rita ran a two-page article about our ‘depraved’ three-way relationship that personally offended many traditional witches and wizards. For the rest of the year, we were treated to wonderful letters full of iconic, warm-hearted messages such as: ‘You two are loathsome and make my stomach turn. You’re not fit to be heroes for our children. Marriage is sacred now and forever more; the next time you two commit adultery, I hope your hair falls out’. Inspiring results of Rita Skeeter’s intelligent reporting (Yearly update for Sherry of Nottingham: as of this article’s publication, Harry and I both still have our hair)._

_In February of 2004, I resigned from the Holyhead Harpies after a severe injury during a match against Puddelmere United. A longtime friend of Harry’s and Puddelmere keeper, Oliver Wood, came to my side directly after my unfortunate (and bloody) tangle with two bludgers and a goal post. Harry and I told Oliver only a day prior that this would be one of my last games, as we had just discovered that I was pregnant with our first child, so Oliver was rightly concerned—a concern that Rita took to mean something entirely different. For the next six months, I was slandered viciously for ‘cheating on’ the savior of the Wizarding world. When my son, James, was born in August of that year (thankfully healthy despite my injury early on), the first thing I was greeted to upon release from St. Mungo’s was an article detailing the birth of ‘Oliver Wood’s lovechild’. A woman in the reception area called me a rather demeaning name. ‘Welcome to our life,’ I told my newborn son. He would come to know the press rather well as he grew—since Rita had a habit of following us around everywhere._

_In early November of 2005, days after the birth of our second son, Harry took James and his new brother to a muggle playground. We woke the next morning to an article accusing me of abandoning my family, hundreds of nasty letters accusing me of being the ‘worst mother imaginable’ (always lovely to hear days after giving birth), and a week later, during a check-up at St. Mungo’s, a woman cornered James and I and tried to forcibly remove him from me, believing Rita Skeeter’s ongoing articles that deemed me a ‘hotheaded and vicious’ person as well as a ‘cold and neglectful’ mother. Harry had to disarm her and physically pull her away._ _James cried himself to sleep that night. He could not sleep in his own bed for months after that, convinced somebody would ‘take him away’ from Harry and I while he slept. I sent Rita Skeeter a rather diplomatic letter pleading with her to stop her lies now that Harry and I had children because it was negatively impacting their well-being. She sent back a draft to an article about James being ‘damaged mentally’ from the injury I sustained while pregnant. Rubeus Hagrid and I sent her copious amounts of dung and a carefully worded letter. She elected not to publish the article—one of her last good choices._

 _In early July of 2006, Draco and Astoria Malfoy welcomed their first and only child into the world. On that day, he was greeted with love, kisses, and gratitude…and the very first article—published by Skeeter, of course—accusing Astoria Malfoy of going back in time to become impregnated by Lord Voldemort himself. These accusations began after Draco and Astoria Malfoy chose to hide away during the duration of Astoria’s pregnancy and afterwards, wishing to preserve her strength due to an ongoing illness, and hoping to keep Scorpius Malfoy out of the public eye for the time being. It only took Rita Skeeter making such a ridiculously cruel and unfounded accusation_ once _. To this day, the Malfoys still fight this ridiculous claim._

 _In early April of 2008, my daughter was born. I took ill directly afterwards due to a complication. Like clockwork, the rumors began again. Where was I? What was I doing? Why on earth was my husband seen_ alone _in_ public _with three children? Why was I so heartless? Why did I have my children if I ‘clearly didn’t want them’? Who was I sleeping around with instead of caring for my two sons and newborn daughter? I will admit that I was a bit woozy from all the blood-replenishing potions, but do I regret temporarily disfiguring Rita Skeeter upon returning to work? Not even a bit. Because she refused to redact the lies she wrote, lies that my children might one day read._

_Skipping forward to today, Rita has once again written another shameless article, this one attacking Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, and (oddly enough) my and Harry’s bathing habits. To rest the public’s apparent worries that Harry and I are ‘obsessed’ with a shower kink, I met with Harry Potter himself to discuss this accusation in an exclusive interview. We met early this morning. In our bed. When we both woke up, because I’m his damn wife. He was exhausted. He grumbled something about bacon. He was wearing a fetching pair of pajama bottoms so old they look blue instead of amethyst. There are multiple holes littering the aged fabric, but I am not saying where. He was thrilled to be interviewed right after waking._

**_Harry, how many times would you say we shower a day?_ ** **  
** _What? Gin, it’s six in the morning._

 **People have said we have a shower kink. Do you agree?**  
_I’m going back to sleep._  
  
_**Harry, the world wants to know: what** **are** **your kinks?**  
_ _Right now? Sleeping._

 ** _Certain journalists have accused us of ‘co-bathing’ in a desperate attempt to ‘cleanse past traumas from our tortured minds’, or some rubbish like that. Do you agree?  
_**_I can promise Rita Skeeter that when I’m showering or bathing with my wife, our past traumas are_ not _on my mind._

 **_So, Harry Potter, what_ ** **is _on your mind, then?  
_** _I can’t believe you’re writing this down._

_So there you have it, straight from Harry Potter’s mouth. We are not traumatized. We are not obsessed with anything. Except, perhaps, the idea that everybody will shut up about us._

_I could fill this entire issue with all the things Rita Skeeter has done, not only to me but to Draco Malfoy as well. Her most recent article published only today is the nastiest in tone, but it is far from the first attack she has made against the Potter and Malfoy families. Her accusations against Draco Malfoy are particularly revolting. Anyone who has so much as heard him mention his late wife knows that she was loved fully and completely; to publically accuse a grieving spouse of being responsible for the early death of his wife—where their son could read it, no less—is the filthiest breach of professionalism that I have ever seen and should be publically shamed accordingly._

_On the matter of Malfoys and Potters, there is no juicy headline to be found that holds any truth. Rita Skeeter’s article today claims that my son, Albus, and Draco Malfoy’s son, Scorpius, are involved in a deviant, damaging relationship. This could not be farther from the truth. I have spent countless hours with Scorpius Malfoy. Harry and I have been present and accountable for every visit, as has Draco Malfoy. There is_ nothing _deviant or damaging about those boys or their relationship (and the nature of that relationship is their business). And if there is anybody reading this article who doubts what I have just written, anybody who finds themselves thinking I am lying to cover something up, anybody who stands by Rita Skeeter unconditionally because she is ‘entertaining’—shame on you. Shame on you for thinking it is justified to commodify the personal lives of two underage boys. Shame on you for believing Rita Skeeter’s obscenities for all these years, for believing it, for sending the Potters and the Malfoys countless abusive letters, for making the lives of our children challenging and, at times, quite lonely. When you find yourself wondering if these allegations against Albus and Scorpius are true, ask yourselves why you feel entitled to know that information. Ask yourselves how your children would feel if their personal lives were plastered all over the front of the_ Prophet _, for everybody in our world to see. Ask yourselves who’s really at fault here: the Potters and the Malfoys for existing? Harry Potter for being famous? Or Rita Skeeter for writing recklessly with no thought to whom she might be harming? And, to my dear colleague Rita Skeeter, I have only this to say: This is only a fraction of what Draco Malfoy and I have compiled. This is only a taste of the things we’ll expose. I started with my own personal stories of your harassment but rest assured that I am far from the only person you have wronged._

Scorpius leaned back in the chair, his eyes wide. The back of his neck ached from sitting hunched over for so long. He glanced over at Albus. He was still staring at the newspaper.

“Dad, is Mum all right?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, she’s great. It was very therapeutic for her,” Harry responded. While they read, he’d begun tidying things for his first class of the day. He seemed less affected by the hostility in the article than Scorpius and Albus did.

“But Dad…Rita’s going to…” he trailed off.

“Oh, she’s going to go spare, definitely,” Harry agreed. He looked up. “I wanted to talk to you two about more than just Rita’s article, actually. I wanted to warn you. I fear this is only the start.”

Scorpius’s heart was still padded by the kind words Ginny had said about him and Albus. About his father. And he was tickled by the idea of Ginny and his dad working side-by-side to counter Rita Skeeter. So he wasn’t too afraid.

“Good,” Albus spat. “I hope Mum makes her cry herself to sleep.”

Scorpius didn’t know if he’d go _that_ far, but he would’ve liked Rita to learn her lesson about how much words can hurt.

“Er…Al?”

“Yeah?”

Harry rubbed over his scar. He tapped the top of his desk nervously with his other hand.

“Your sister. What’s she like here—at school, I mean?”

Scorpius looked up at Albus. Albus shrugged.

“I dunno, like she is at home?”

“Oh. Okay. I was just wondering because Neville said something and…anyway.”

“Dad…are you nervous about teaching Lily?” There was a poorly restrained smile audible in Albus’s words. “Because she’s your daughter…of all the professors here, you should feel the least worried about Lily Potter.”

“Or the most,” Scorpius piped up. Both Potters look at him. “You know. Because Harry knows her best.”

Harry looked more worried than he had previously.

* * *

 

Their first class of the day was Transfiguration with Ravenclaw, followed directly after by Defense Against the Dark Arts, this time with Hufflepuff. Transfiguration was rather uneventful. The Ravenclaws mostly ignored the Slytherins and vice versa. Scorpius actually managed to vanish the tail on his rat in Transfiguration, so he was feeling decently optimistic as they headed in the direction of Harry’s classroom.

“I don’t understand what I was doing wrong,” Albus groaned. “Did you see my rat? It kept glaring at me...right _into my soul_ …unnerving, really.”

“Maybe that’s why you couldn’t do it?” Scorpius grinned. “Because you’re frightened of it.”

Albus elbowed him in the ribs. They were laughing as they rounded the corner, Albus vehemently refusing to admit that he was frightened of the rat, when Scorpius spotted Lily, most likely having just left DADA. He waved.

“Hi, Lily!” he said cheerfully.

She didn’t turn. She was standing up against the wall with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Halloran Carrow was leaning over her. His back was to them, so they couldn’t see his expression, but he was impossible to miss with his shaved head and massive figure.

“Why’s Lily talking to a sixth year Slytherin?” Scorpius wondered.

Albus was frowning. He grabbed onto Scorpius’s hand and tugged.

“C’mon,” he urged.

They approached the two. Scorpius waved at Aster who was standing off to the side, nervously chewing on a lock of her dark hair, her eyes locked on Lily.

“Hey, Aster,” he greeted. She looked over at them.

“Scorpius, Albus,” she said, relieved. She walked up to them and lowered her voice. “I don’t know what to do. That sixth year—he followed us from your dad’s class, he was waiting outside. He’s been saying _awful_ things to Lily, but she won’t let me get Harry or another professor. She wouldn’t let Quinton or Leonard or Evandrus do anything, either,” Aster gestured back towards the opposite end of the hall. Scorpius turned. A group of third year boys—two Gryffindors, one Ravenclaw—were grouped together and whispering, their eyes locked on Lily and Halloran Carrow. Scorpius looked down at Albus.

“Albus?” he asked.

Albus looked up at him. “Halloran could snap our necks with one hand.”

“With three fingers,” Scorpius corrected quietly. He glanced past Albus and surveyed the situation again. Lily was glowering steadily. Halloran seemed to be giving a monologue; he’d yet to shut up. His voice rose near the end of the sentence, just enough that Scorpius made out a rather crude insult, and he scowled. Protective instincts roused immediately. “I’m going over there.”

Albus was already withdrawing his wand. “Me too.”

Scorpius and Albus marched over to Lily and Carrow. Scorpius went to stand beside Lily, drawing Halloran’s focus from her to him. Halloran’s normally expressionless face was full of hatred.

“This is none of your business, Malfoy,” he growled.

“Go away!” Lily told them. She shoved at Albus, who’d circled around to her other side. “I don’t need my brother protecting me! I’m waiting until this massive oaf finishes his speech so I can Scourgify his mouth and hex him! _Go_!”

Albus didn’t move. He pushed Lily’s shoving hands away and glowered at Halloran.

“What’s your problem? Why are you picking on a third year?” Albus demanded.

“I’m picking on a Potter Plague. It’s not your turn yet, so I suggest you continue on to class.”

Scorpius laughed. He quickly slapped his palm over his mouth a second later, embarrassed.

“Sorry, it’s just…that’s ridiculous. Potter Plague. Where’d you get that from?”

His laughter severed off once Halloran turned his cold eyes to Scorpius’s. He held Scorpius’s gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment. The hairs on the back of Scorpius’s neck rose in warning. He hardly registered the flash of movement as Halloran raised his wand. Before anybody could do much to stop it, Halloran slashed his wand through the air. Lily’s, Albus’s, and Scorpius’s school bags split open, sending all their belongings tumbling to the floors. Scorpius gaped.

“ _What the hell_ —!” Albus’s infuriated cry broke off as Halloran turned and hurried off. “Coward! Running off like that! Get back here and face my sister’s bat-bogey, you disgusting—”

“Al, what’s…?” Harry came to a stop beside them, a mug of tea in hand. Scorpius guessed he’d just returned from the professors' lounge. He looked between the three students, their severed bags, and then after Halloran’s retreating back. “Did the Carrow boy do that to your bags?”

“Yes!” Albus raged. He dropped down to his knees, hands shaking, and began to gather his belongings. Scorpius quickly lowered to do the same, as did Lily. Harry kneeled beside them and waved his wand over each bag to mend it.

“Dad, he was saying horrible things to Lily!” Albus said, outraged.

“I was _handling it_!” Lily shot back fiercely.

“You don’t need to be ‘handling it’ when it’s a psychotic sixth year!” Albus yelled. “He’s twice your size and five times as cruel!”

“I _don’t need anybody to look after me_!” Lily shrieked. Several passing Hufflepuffs stopped and stared, concerned. Lily glowered. “Carry on!” They quickly resumed walking.

“Why was he saying those things to you, Lily?” Scorpius asked. He handed her one of her pink quills; it’d gotten mixed in with his belongings. She stuffed it angrily into her bag.

“I don’t know. He was outside Dad’s class. He said ‘Lily Potter’, I hung back to say hello, and he just…got really angry and started saying all these things. About Dad and Mum and me and Albus and James. He wouldn’t go away. He just kept following.”

Harry passed Scorpius his homework planner. Scorpius set it safely on his lap, glad no harm had come to it. Harry leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Do you three remember anything about the Carrows’ involvement during the Second Wizarding War?”

Scorpius nodded immediately. Lily grimaced.

“Of course I remember. I remember the name of anybody who hurt my mum or dad,” she grumbled. Albus looked less certain; Scorpius made another mental note to try and help Albus improve his knowledge of history.

“The…Death Eaters, right? That worked at Hogwarts and tortured everybody?” he asked.  

“Right. Halloran is Amycus Carrow’s only son; he impregnated some woman during his stay in Azkaban. Halloran’s been in and out of Azkaban his entire childhood, visiting his dad. The Carrow family appealed to have Amycus’s case reopened over the summer after Amycus fell ill. I refused to allow it. Amycus died in Azkaban in July.”

Scorpius looked between Harry and Albus, his eyes wide.

“Why did you refuse?” Scorpius asked hesitantly.

“Because he viciously tortured my classmates, my friends, and my wife. Ginny spoke at his initial trial, as did Neville, Luna, Dean, and Seamus. I imagine Halloran probably knows that I’m the one who refused to reopen his dad’s case.”

Lily looked proud. “Good. Good for you, Dad. I’m proud of you. His dad _deserved_ to die in prison.”

“And so now he hates _all_ the Potters,” Albus realized. He slumped back against the wall. “Great. Of all the students to hate us, and we get _Halloran Carrow_ , who probably tortures animals for fun.”

Harry picked up his mug from the floor and stood. Scorpius shoved the last of his items into his bag and did the same.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told them reassuringly. His smile was a bit strained. “He’ll get over it.”

“Oh, I’m worrying about it, all right,” Scorpius hissed to Albus. Albus nodded up at him, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Harry must’ve been worrying at least a bit, too, because he insisted upon walking Lily to her next class—something that was _incredibly_ insulting to her.

“No! I can’t have my dad walking me to class! Quinton, Evan, and Leo will walk me. Right, boys?”

Scorpius spun around, glancing towards the last place the boys had been. To his surprise, they were still there, seemingly in conversation with Aster and a third year Ravenclaw girl. At Lily’s beckoning, they turned and headed over, coming to stand around her.

“We’ll walk her, Professor Potter,” the Ravenclaw said seriously.

Harry didn’t look convinced.

“Nobody will get past _us_ ,” one of the Gryffindors added. He puffed his chest out. Scorpius caught Lily and Emi struggling not to laugh.

“Er…” Harry hedged.

“Professor Potter, I won’t let _anybody_ hurt your daughter—”

Lily cut off the Gryffindor. “Yes, okay, thanks, Quinton. Bye, Dad.”

Lily walked off, flanked by her friends. Scorpius saw her shake them all off at the end of the corridor, as did Harry. He was scowling.

“She’s incorrigible!”

“She’s probably the last person who needs protection,” Scorpius muttered. He wouldn’t mind a protective detail.

* * *

 

Harry stared at the class. The class stared back. The Slytherin girls were alternating between whispers and frantic giggling. Albus was already rubbing his temples in annoyance.

“Hi,” Harry finally greeted.

“Hello!” the class chorused back.

“Er…I’m Professor Potter. Obviously. And this is Defense Against the Dark Arts. So…if you’re in the wrong place…”

Matt Irvine stood up.

“Oh, buggar—I only just realized—I’m not a Hufflepuff!”

Scorpius pursed his lips against his own smile as everybody began laughing. Albus buried his face in his hands. Scorpius slid his chair over and wrapped an arm around Albus’s waist comfortingly. He rested his cheek briefly against Albus’s hunched back but looked up a few moments later as Harry gave a few chuckles himself.

“All right, all right,” he told the class. “Irvine, right?”

Matt bowed. He was now wearing a Slytherin tie. Whose tie was that? Scorpius looked around, confused, staring from face to face. Ah. Sig. His dorm mate was reclined in his chair, grinning, Matt’s Hufflepuff tie in place.

“Yellow’s my color,” he told Harry.

“How wonderful for you,” Harry said dryly. The class laughed. “Though, be forewarned: I will deduct points accordingly. So, Mr. Irvine, if you want to pretend to be a Slytherin, know that any points I take from Mr…”

“Sig,” Sigmund provided.

“Mr. _Sig_ ’s deductions today will come from Hufflepuff.”

“Oh, damn. No—give that back, Sig,” Matt ordered. “You’re a disobedient disaster on Monday, mate.”

The boys switched ties. Harry took a deep breath.

“Okay, well. My first class was a mess, so to try and learn from my mistakes, I’m going to dedicate the first five minutes to questions. But—!” he hurriedly added, as excited whispers began spreading across the classroom. “After the first five minutes, that’s _it_. My first class turned into a horrifying interview session and everybody was hopeless. So is everybody clear? First five minutes—then _no more_. Okay? Deal?”

There were mumbles of agreement. Albus had sunk lower into his chair. He was staring in horror at his dad, like he’d only just realized that he was _there,_ teaching his class. Scorpius reached for his hand. Albus looked over at him.

“It’ll be okay,” Scorpius reassured him. Albus squeezed his hand tighter in response.

“This’ll be good to learn names, too, actually,” Harry was saying. He was surveying the classroom; nearly every hand was raised. He looked a bit pained like he’d just offered to willingly pull his own teeth out one-by-one. After another steadying breath, he pointed at a Hufflepuff girl. “Okay…yes? Name first, then the question.”

“Rina Matthewson. Are we going to learn Patronuses? Our last DADA professor refused to teach anybody below N.E.W.T level.”

It wasn’t the question that anybody was expecting. Harry visibly relaxed. He grinned a second later, and when he began speaking, his enthusiasm infused every word.

“Yes. We are. First thing, actually. In fact—I’m starting my first years with Patronuses.”

A dozen hands shot up immediately.

“Yes?” Harry asked.

“I’m Mr. Sig—we talked before.”

“Yes, I remember that, surprisingly enough…” Harry said.

“Great. You’re teaching _first years_ Patronuses? They can’t do them, can they?”

“Most won’t be able to. But the earlier you begin working on the concepts, the sooner they’ll grasp it. And I have always believed that _every student_ should be able to do one, regardless of age. Dementors are still out there. We don’t hear much about them because they’re scattered without a unifying leader as they had underneath Voldemort, but they are still around, and they’re still breeding, and they’re _still_ a threat. Has anyone here ever encountered one?”

Harry purposefully looked everywhere but at Scorpius. He was probably trying to reassure Scorpius that he wouldn’t make him speak if he didn’t want to. But as the silence droned on, Scorpius found his hand rising shyly into the air. Harry smiled.

“Scorpius?”

A few students made comments about the fact that Harry _‘already knew Malfoy’s name’ ‘his first name, at that!’ ‘I bet Rita Skeeter’s right…I bet Scorpius and Albus_ are _dating…’._ Scorpius forced himself to ignore them.

“I have.”

Whispers spread quickly throughout the room. Scorpius realized too late that admitting something like that certainly didn’t help disperse the son of Voldemort claims. He panicked. Luckily, Harry stepped in smoothly.

“Right, I remember. The group that strayed too closely to the campground,” he lied easily. Scorpius nodded quickly. “Could you tell the class a bit about it?”

Albus tightened his hold on Scorpius’s hand. Scorpius was certain most of the class could see that their hands were joined, but he _certainly_ wasn’t going to let go now. He swallowed nervously and peered up at the ceiling.

“It was dark. Really suddenly, you know? And _freezing_. And…” he trailed off. He looked back at Harry. Harry nodded reassuringly right at the same moment that Albus began stroking the back of Scorpius’s hand with his thumb. “They make you think things. Awful, terrible things. It’s like…every horrible thought you’ve ever had in your entire life…every bad memory. It all converges and takes you under. And you feel so _hopeless_ —like you’ll always feel that way, like there’s no point, like everything you ever loved is gone and will never return…”

For a moment, he was back in that horrible world. He was without Albus. He was the Scorpion King. He was cruel, and vicious, and _wrong_. But then Albus gave his hand a small squeeze. Scorpius cleared his throat and glanced back at Harry, his cheeks burning.

“That sounds exactly like my experiences with them, as well,” Harry said gently. The class was watching with rapt attention now. “It might sound easy in theory. You learn a spell, you cast it, you’re fine. But we need to keep in mind what Scorpius said: you feel _hopeless_. It’s not easy to fight for your life when you have no hope. You’ll find that the most difficult part of a Patronus isn’t the spell itself; it’s finding enough inner strength while under a dementor’s influence to be able to try to cast it in the first place.”

A brief silence settled over the class.

“Scorpius?”

Scorpius turned around towards the voice. Iset Goyle stared at him curiously, her quill held in hand. She’d been taking notes.

“How did you get away from them?”

Scorpius parted his lips to respond but then stopped. Harry gave him a moment, as if to make sure he really was as uncertain as he looked, and then he stepped in.

“Scorpius can cast a corporal Patronus, as can Albus.”

Albus promptly lowered his face to his desk. His forehead made a dull _thunk_. Harry walked over and gave Albus’s shoulder a gentle, proud pat. Albus reluctantly sat up, but he glared at his dad.

“Really?” Saul drawled, skeptical. “ _Albus?_ ”

Harry narrowed his eyes. The class shared a sharp intake of breath. Scorpius scowled Saul’s way.

“Really. I taught him myself. I saw it myself. So unless you think I’m a liar…?”

“No! No, I was only saying…well, Albus is sort of…” Saul lost his nerve a moment later, subdued into silence by Harry’s cool look.

“That’s so cool,” Rina called across the room, breaking the tense silence. “Albus, what does it look like?”

“Er...it’s an owl,” Albus admitted quietly.

“Wicked! Scorpius, what’s yours?”

“A sparrow!” Scorpius smiled.

“Can we see?” Omri asked.

Scorpius panicked internally. What if he couldn’t do it on the spot and everybody thought he was lying? Albus looked equally horrified.

“We’re _all_ going to begin practice today,” Harry said. He walked back to the front of the classroom. “All right. Any last questions?”

Viola Shard, a fellow Slytherin, raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“I’m Viola. This thing with Rita Skeeter and your wife—I read both Rita Skeeter’s article and your wife’s this morning—is it true?”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Is what true?”

“Is it true that all those things Rita Skeeter said were lies?”

Albus snapped his head towards Viola. Harry pursed his lips.

“Are you asking me to comment on everything Rita Skeeter has ever accused me or my family of doing? We couldn’t cover that even if we spent all term on it.”

“The more…. _recent_ …allegations, then…”

Viola’s gaze turned to Scorpius and Albus. Scorpius quickly looked away from her and back to Harry. Scorpius could tell he was getting annoyed.

“Oh, like my showering habits?” he deadpanned.

Albus lowered his face back to the desk.

“Merlin, kill me, please, Scorpius, just end this…” Scorpius heard him muttering.

Viola blushed horribly.

“No, Professor! I meant…well…you know. The…other things she said. About… _them_.”

She pointed at Scorpius and Albus. Scorpius quickly lowered the hand that’d just settled on Albus’s back. Half the class was snickering. Half was horrified that she’d dared to ask such a thing. Scorpius was among the ones horrified.

“I’m actually glad you brought this up. Right. Listen up, you lot. And this is all I’ll be saying on the matter—if you want more detailed stories, read my wife’s article in _Witch Weekly_. Since _I_ was a fifth year, Rita Skeeter has been making up lies, weaving horrible stories, and ruining reputations. _Nothing_ Rita says is ever 100% true. This is the same woman who refused to believe Voldemort had returned—and we all know how right she was on that one.” Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the classroom. “Okay, question time is over. I’d like you to break off into pairs please…”

All in all, Scorpius thought the lesson was enjoyable. Opening up a time for questions must’ve helped because the fifth year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins actually got a good half-hour of work in. Albus and Scorpius mainly spent the entire class period huddled in a far corner talking, shooting off Patronuses every now when Harry wandered by, to the envy of their struggling classmates. It was nice to be the best at something for once. But most of all, it was nice to be standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Albus, with no mean words or cruel looks being passed their way.

They watched his owl soar above their classmates. It swooped low over the desks, causing a few people to shriek and scatter out of its way as if it were an actual owl. Scorpius felt Albus’s hand touch his again, and when he looked down, Albus was staring forward with _that look_.

“Guess what I was thinking about?”

Scorpius flushed brightly. His smile matched in warmth.

* * *

 

After lunch and Divination, their day ended with double Charms, this time with the Gryffindors. Having been with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff all day, both Scorpius and Albus were dreading the afternoon.

“Should we try to say hello?” Scorpius fretted.

“If she’s not surrounded by her idiotic friends.”

“Which is…highly unlikely.”

“Indeed.”

It was worse than it was last year because they’d actually spent time with Rose over the summer. She’d been to Malfoy Manor once (briefly, and she’d probably only come to be nosy, but she’d been there despite) and she’d been around from time to time for the Malfoy-Potter weekend dinners. Things had been well enough; she’d spent the majority of her time with James, but they’d played a few games of makeshift Quidditch, she partially helped Albus, Scorpius, and Harry make treacle tart, and once she and Scorpius had a _real_ conversation about the additions added into _A History of Magic_. So Scorpius wasn’t sure where they stood, and that made things even worse. He didn’t want to approach her as friends only to have her look at him like he was something stuck to her shoe.

They took their customary spot near the back. Scorpius watched nervously as each person entered the room. Albus nudged him a moment later.

“There she is,” he said needlessly.

They watched Rose enter the classroom. She was laughing, flanked by two fifth year Gryffindor girls, her arms locked around a planner just like the ones Hermione had given Scorpius and Albus, though hers was a cheery yellow. She walked fully into the room. She stopped. She muttered something to her friends; they scoffed and made their way towards the front without her. Scorpius waved automatically when Rose turned and sought them out. And then, to their complete and utter shock—she turned on her heel and walked right over to them.

“Hi,” she said. She plopped down into the seat beside Albus’s. “How have your classes been so far? I’m looking forward to Uncle Harry’s; the Hufflepuffs said it was brilliant in Herbology.”

Albus and Scorpius exchanged a quick, stunned look.

“You’re sitting with us?” Albus blurted, ignoring her efforts towards small talk.

Rose scoffed. “Well if you’re just going to be weird about it—”

“Rose, you ignored me for the past four years, of _course_ I’d be weird about it.”

Rose shifted to face Albus. She arched an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to leave then?”

“No,” Albus said quickly. “Not as long as you’re going to be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Rose sniffed.

Scorpius and Albus exchanged another look. Rose elected to ignore them.

“So,” she began, as she pulled parchment and quills from her bag. “How _was_ Uncle Harry’s class? I heard Lily’s classmates spent the entire class period trying to get him to describe every detail about Voldemort. Lily told me he got a bit cross when somebody asked him what Voldemort’s preferred dessert was…”

Scorpius frowned. “How’s Harry’s supposed to know that?”

“Search me. Lily told the boy it was spotted dick and spent the rest of the class period taking it upon herself to sarcastically answer every question thrown Harry’s way. So, if anybody asks: Voldemort’s most frequented holiday spot is muggle Disney World, he had a cat named Fluffy along with Nagini, and he always kept his toenails painted pink.”

“No _wonder_ Dad was so frazzled,” Albus snorted.

Rose and Scorpius laughed. They all shared a tentative grin.  

* * *

 

“I can’t believe she sat with us for the entire lesson.”

“I can’t believe she yelled at Karl and Yann.”

Scorpius hooted gleefully. “Their faces turned nearly purple, did you see?”

“Oh, I saw. I saw and I’ll dream of it tonight in vivid detail,” Albus said, grinning widely. He seemed to gain a hop in his step as they approached the Great Hall. “Mmm—I smell Shepherd’s Pie.”

“Still won’t be as good as your gran’s, but I’m so famished that I’m sure I won’t even mind that!” Scorpius exclaimed.

Albus groaned. “Why’d you have to say that?! Now I’m thinking about my gran’s food…I miss her…”

Albus was still staring wistfully off into the distance as they stepped into the Great Hall, hand-in-hand. Scorpius was taking stock of the different dishes crowding the Slytherin table, his stomach rumbling even louder at the sight, when he noticed a splash of red. He squeezed Albus’s fingers.

“Albus, look.”

Albus looked in the direction Scorpius was staring. They both watched James and Evvie for a moment. They were sitting across from each other at the end of the Slytherin table, heads bowed, whispering madly.

“Doesn’t look good,” Scorpius worried.

“And here I was thinking we’d get a normal meal for once…” Albus sighed. “C’mon.”

He dragged Scorpius over to his brother and Evvie. They sat down beside James.

“You’re not a Slytherin,” Albus greeted.

James smiled at Albus and reached across him towards Scorpius. He patted Scorpius’s shoulder in greeting.

“How’s the first day been?” James asked them.

“Okay. Better than they usually are.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius agreed. “Nobody called me 'son of Voldemort' all day!”

“Yeah?! Nice!” James appreciated. His smile was heavier than normal. It fell a moment later. He exchanged a look with Evvie. “Listen. We need to talk about the Carrow git.”

Scorpius felt his heart squeeze nervously. Albus scowled.

“He was bullying Lily.”

“Yeah. He…don’t freak out.”

“What? What do you mean?” Albus demanded—already beginning to freak out. Scorpius set a palm on his leg from beneath the table, but Albus hardly seemed to notice. _Tsk, James,_ Scorpius thought. _That’s not how you preface something if you want to keep Albus calm…_

“He followed Lily from Herbology.”

Scorpius immediately turned around on the bench. He looked towards the Gryffindor table. When he failed to spot Lily’s fiery hair, he panicked.

“Is she okay?” he asked, right as Albus said: “What happened?”

“She’s fine. She’s with Dad. Mum’s there, too—they’re having dinner in his office and said to invite you two once you showed up.”

“James. _What_ did Halloran do to our sister?”

“He shoved her. Called her…things. And he snapped her glasses in half.”

Albus snorted. “Jokes on him—she hates her glasses.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, but she was in tears when I found her,” James whispered.

Scorpius felt sick to his stomach. Food no longer smelled or looked appealing.

“Tears?” Albus repeated sharply.

“Yeah. Could’ve been angry tears, but I think she was frightened. He only left because Slughorn happened upon them. Slughorn was _furious_.”

Scorpius remembered the way Slughorn had doted on Lily during the Slub Club meeting on the train. He was surprised Slughorn hadn’t hexed Carrow himself.

“So what’s the plan?” Albus demanded.

“The plan?”

“Yeah. We’re going to do something about this, right? We’re her brothers.”

“I don’t think so, Al.”

Albus glowered. “Don’t you remember the speech Uncle George gave us when Lily was born?”

“…Very vaguely. How do _you_ remember it? You weren’t even three yet.”

“He repeats it on her birthday every year.”

“Is this the speech about locking our broomsticks up at night and never letting her spend alone time with our friends?”

“No—the one about protecting her even when she doesn’t think she needs to be.”

“Oh, right,” James remembered. “Well, Dad’s in charge of his detention. Halloran, I mean. If you ask me, McGonagall let her favoritism show by letting Dad be the one to discipline Carrow…”

Albus didn’t seem soothed. Scorpius could read the furious tension on every line of his body, from his furrowed brow to his hunched shoulders to his balled up fists. Scorpius didn’t much like the idea of fighting. And Carrow frightened him immensely. But if Albus was going to fight—well, he’d do anything for Albus. He’d do anything _with_ Albus. And he cared about Lily, too.

“I’ll do something,” he told his boyfriend.

Albus turned to look at him. His eyes were soft this time, and when he smiled, it made Scorpius want to squirm with glee.

“No,” Evvie said sharply. “I won’t permit it. You’re both in _my_ House and you’re staying out of this. We’ve already got Halloran making us look bad yet _again_. The last thing we need is another Slytherin getting violent. And besides: Carrow’s already tried to hex James. We think he’s probably not coming after you Albus because you’re a Slytherin. Wouldn’t want to purposely put a target on your back when there wasn’t one beforehand.”

“What’s being a Slytherin got to do with _anything_?” Albus demanded, outraged. “That’s my little sister, Evvie! This isn’t a House war—it’s family!”

“Yeah!” Scorpius said.

James stared hard at both Albus and Scorpius. “It’ll be a House war if Carrow kills you two—which he’s likely to do—because then _I’ll_ have to kill him, and really—I was planning on getting through the year without that. I’m too busy with N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch, and my private lessons with McGonagall to clean up that sort of mess. _Stay. Out. Of. It._ Okay?”

“No.”

“Al!”

“ _No_! I won’t stay out of it! I know what it’s like to have people treating you that way!” He paused. Albus seemed to be considering something. “And I know what it’s like to have your family sit back and let it happen! And I’m not going to do that to her.”

James’s face colored in shame. He had nothing else to say.

“Albus,” Evvie said. “Your _dad_ is dealing with it. That’s all James is saying. He’s asking you to let your dad handle it. Don’t complicate it any more than it already is.”

James stood abruptly.

“Come on,” he said. Scorpius assumed he was just talking to Albus, so he remained seated as Albus stood. “Let’s go to Dad’s office.”

Scorpius halfheartedly reached forward and pulled some chicken onto his plate as Albus walked away. A second later, he heard approaching footsteps. Albus took hold of his arm.

“That means you too,” he explained, a slightly exasperated note in his voice. “‘Me’ is ‘us’, almost always.”

He yanked Scorpius to his feet and reached up to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Scorpius smiled as they walked from the Great Hall.

* * *

 

The surprises kept coming. He was beside himself with joy.

“ _Dad_!” he cried, and without pausing to consider it, he rushed across the room and threw his arms around him. His dad gave his customary two-second freeze-pause, and then he relaxed, his arms wrapping around Scorpius. Scorpius inhaled the smell of home (lavender from his mum’s surrounding gardens, peppermint, alchemy powders—home was the scent of his mum and his dad intermingled, of his childhood, of his softest memories). “Dad,” Scorpius said, leaning back to look up at Draco’s face. “I summoned an entire bookcase in Charms.”

His dad smiled. He placed a brief hand against the top of Scorpius’s head, his hand smoothing down his hair, and then he stepped back, breaking their embrace.

“That certainly sounds like you,” his dad told him. Scorpius grinned.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

In response, his dad jerked his head in the direction of Mrs. Potter. She was curled up on the sofa with Lily, who still looked dreadfully upset, her food untouched on the table in front of her. She was sitting practically in her mother’s lap, a blanket draped over her. Albus hurried over to join them. Scorpius’s stomach churned again.

“Is Lily okay?” he asked Draco.

“I think so. We were working on something when Harry came by and told her about Lily. I decided to come with, to check on you. The Carrow boy…Scorpius, promise you aren’t going to pick fights with him.”

“ _I_ would never pick a fight…”

“Your boyfriend would,” Draco muttered back. The thrill of having his dad acknowledge that Albus was his _boyfriend_ overwrote the defensiveness he felt at those words. “And you’d go right along with it. I know you.”

Scorpius didn’t want to lie to his dad, so he chose not to respond instead. Draco gave him a knowing look in response.

“I’ll… _try_ not to fight,” Scorpius finally hedged.

“I’ll… _try_ not to leap around in my relieved joy.”

They shared a tight-lipped grimace.

“It’s his little sister, Dad.”

“Let the _adults_ handle it,” his dad shot back firmly. “I mean it, Scorpius. There will be no holiday this summer if you get yourself into trouble and injured.”

Scorpius frowned. “Okay, all right, no fighting,” he hurriedly said. His dad was supposed to take him and Albus to France. Scorpius wasn’t willing to risk losing that holiday.

“Good,” he dad said. He clapped him on the back. “Now, come sit, come eat. Tell me about your day.”

Scorpius didn’t need to be asked twice.

* * *

 

It was late. Slughorn and McGonagall (acting as Gryffindor Head of House against the rules, due to the fact that they still hadn’t acquired one, as both Professor Longbottom and Harry were the only Gryffindor professors and refused to live at Hogwarts) had come by twice already, urging Draco, Ginny, and Harry to leave so their children could return to bed. The adults seemed unwilling to part with them. Scorpius’s dad even seemed reluctant to leave him. Scorpius was making the most out of his dad’s openness. He always knew that his dad loved him, but he didn’t often seem comfortable showing it. That night, however, he was more attentive and open than Scorpius could remember him being in a long while. It was nice.

“Or,” Ginny interrupted, her voice quiet, mindful of Lily asleep across her lap. “You could make him rewrite all our testimonies from his dad’s trial. Maybe then he’d realize _why_ you refused to reopen the case…”

“I disagree,” Draco said sharply. “He’s dangerous right now. Pain makes you dangerous, and no pain as much so as grief. That could send him over.”

“I liked Nora’s idea,” James piped up. _Big surprise that you liked Nora’s idea, James…_ “An overnight visit to Azkaban seems fitting. Actually. While he’s there, we might as well just ‘lose the key’ and leave it be.”

Albus laughed.

“I don’t think that’s in my power as a _professor_ ,” Harry pointed out. “Though Hermione might…hmm…”

“Let’s not get Hermione involved,” Ginny said quickly. “She’s already working well into the night with us on these laws. With all she’s got going on…I didn’t realize before. I worry about her.”

“She can take it,” Draco scoffed. “You never had a class with her, Ginny…”

“No. No Hermione, not yet.”

“Ron?” Harry suggested hopefully.

“Not unless you want to bury Carrow. Please don’t tell him. He’ll be _furious_ and annoying to deal with. _And_ he’ll tell Hermione first thing. And Mum on top of it, and that’ll just be a disaster _._ ”

Harry grumbled something underneath his breath that sounded suspiciously like _maybe that’s what I want_. But Scorpius couldn’t be certain.

“What concerns me the most, Potters,” Draco began, “is that this is the _first day_ and he’s already cornered your youngest child and threatened extreme violence. If he were doing small things and gradually escalating—that’d be one thing. But he’s clearly unstable. He’s clearly dangerous.”

“So, what then?” Harry demanded. He’d been pacing angrily, but he stopped in front of Draco. “What’s your solution, Draco?”

Draco sniffed. He looked away haughtily. “You didn’t seem to like my other one.”

“You suggested Ginny and I move in here and basically shadow our children all day, every day. Not the best solution.”

Draco’s arm tightened around Scorpius’s shoulders.

“It’s what I would do. And it’d work.”

“That’s great, Draco, but we’ve got _three_ children, and there’s only two of us.”

“I’ll come, too. I’ll watch over Albus.”

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting, just a bit?” Harry demanded. “The Carrow kid is unhinged, sure. But we’re at Hogwarts. What’s the worst that could happen, with all these professors and—”

Harry never got the chance to finish. Scorpius’s dad burst into laughter, followed a moment later by Ginny. Harry glowered at them both.

“Okay—look,” he tried to say over their laughter. “Hogwarts is _different_ now! It’s probably actually at least _slightly_ safe—stop laughing!”

“Oh, come here,” Ginny requested, patting the spot beside her. “Come sit before you pace a hole into the floor.” Harry glowered, but trudged over immediately, falling down into her embrace. Scorpius glanced up at his dad, wondering suddenly if the sight made him miss Astoria. But Draco was rolling his eyes, so probably not.

“To be fair, Draco,” Ginny began, “if we look at what Carrow _actually did_ —I’m not sure it warrants stalking our children throughout the castle.”

“No,” James hurriedly said. “Definitely not. You two should definitely _not_ do that.”

Scorpius was slightly inclined to agree. He loved his dad, but he also loved this new freedom he and Albus had…especially in their dorm…

“To be fair, Ginny,” Draco shot right back, his voice dry and brimming with frustration, “you seem to have forgotten all the things the Carrows did to you during my seventh year.”

They locked eyes. Something akin to accusation passed between them. Draco crossed his arms uneasily, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Ginny tugged the rolled-up sleeves of her jumper down to cover her arms. Scorpius looked around, baffled, but the only person who didn’t look lost was Harry. His eyes had gone abruptly cold.

“I can assure you that I haven’t forgotten.” Ginny’s voice was cool. Scorpius was left desperate for answers. “Children aren’t their parents, Draco.”

“Sometimes they are. Sometimes they’re perfect replicas. And I need you both to listen to me when I tell you that I understand the Carrow family better than you ever will. I know the true extent of what they did. And I know what it feels like to be full of hatred and grief and rage. Please listen to me when I tell you—Carrow is a threat. I don’t care if he’s a sixteen-year-old. Sixteen-year-olds can do awful things. I know.”

Harry threw his hands up. “So let’s expel him. Really—let’s get McGonagall right now and let’s have her throw him out. I’m not joking.”

“What—and release _that_ into the general population?” Draco demanded.

“Well, we don’t have enough to charge him—”

Harry’s office door opened. McGonagall peered in, her eyes lined with exhaustion, her tartan dressing gown tied tightly.

“This has gone on long enough. I understand you’re having a serious conversation, but I want my Gryffindors safely in bed for the night, and so does Slughorn. The children surely don’t need to be part of this conversation?”

“Yes they do,” Harry shot back, perhaps a bit sharper than he’d intended. “They shouldn’t be in the dark. They might feel pushed to act on their own if they are. And that’ll only make things worse.”

“Then I suggest Mrs. Potter and Mr. Malfoy return in the morning,” McGonagall said firmly. “Say your goodbyes and then kindly return to your dormitories.”

Scorpius found it harder to say goodbye this time. Perhaps because he’d been going to the Potters’ last time he and his dad parted, and there wasn’t anything frightening about that. Hogwarts, on the other hand…

“Be safe. Stay sharp. Don’t do anything reckless.”

Scorpius nodded. He wanted to hug his dad again, but he worried that the moment wasn’t right for it. He wrapped his arms tightly around his middle instead.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“Write to me tomorrow, okay? So I know everything’s okay. Have you been practicing for Quidditch tryouts?”

“We practiced a bit at the Potter house.”

“Good. I’ll see you at the first match, then.”

“Yeah, all right. Bye, Dad.”

With a heavy heart, he watched his dad step into the Floo and head back to Malfoy Manor. Opposite from the fireplace, Lily was not taking her mother’s departure well. Scorpius hesitantly walked over to Albus’s side and watched as Lily gripped tightly onto Ginny’s hand, begging her not to go. Scorpius was getting the impression that Lily hadn’t told anybody the full story. He couldn’t merge the vision of this frightened girl ( _little girl_ at that, and those were words he’d never before thought to explain Lily, who’d always seemed more capable than her age would allow) falling apart because a bully had snapped her glasses with the Lily who’d done death-defying dives mid-air from her broomstick.

“Lu,” Ginny was saying. “I can’t go to your dorm with you; McGonagall won’t allow it.”

“You can sleep in the common room if you want, Lily,” James offered. “I’ll stay there with you.”

“Mum, you can sleep in the common room too, you’re still a Gryffindor!” Lily begged. 

“Lily, I don’t think—…”

While Ginny and Lily continued their discussion, Harry pulled Albus and Scorpius to the side.

“I want you two to go back to your dorm, but keep your wands out, all right? And go straight to bed. Don’t spend time in the common room.”

Albus and Scorpius nodded. Scorpius was feeling frightened now.

* * *

 

“As much as I love to pretend that I’m brave and clever and capable,” Scorpius began quietly.

“Ah, yes, one of your favorite hobbies,” Albus nodded.

“Well, I’m not pretending anymore, and I’m frightened, and I won’t be sleeping alone tonight. So either we’re sharing a bed again, or I’m going down to the Hufflepuff’s basement and camping out in their common room.”

“They _are_ beside the kitchens according to James.”

“Excellent point…”

“A bit unnecessary, though, because if you leave the dorm, _I’m_ leaving the dorm, and then we’ll end up camped together on the same sofa in the Hufflepuff common room when we _could’ve_ just slept in your bed.”

Scorpius felt a strange mixture of relief and excitement flood his chest. He grinned.

“ _That_ is an even better point.”

They readied for bed quietly, mindful not to wake their dorm mates, and then they slipped underneath Scorpius’s covers. Scorpius drew his hangings shut and shifted into Albus’s warmth.

“He could come right in here. He’s like…ten seconds from us right now, assuming he’s in his dorm.”

“Wow,” Albus said dryly. “That was a really helpful thing to say to me, Scorpius. I feel very reassured.”

“I’m only saying! It’s true.”

Albus shifted even closer, which wasn’t exactly possible. And yet…Scorpius was trying to find more space to eliminate between them, too. He shifted, slid down, cuddled up. He hesitated, wondering if lying his head on Albus’s chest was okay or too much, but then he felt Albus tap his nose.

“You’re going to give your neck a cramp, you know,” he whispered.

He was right. He’d been hovering with his head held above Albus’s chest for too long; his neck was beginning to ache. He took Albus’s joke as consent and slowly lowered down, resting his ear over his best friend’s pounding heart. Their legs were woven together—partially due to lack of space, mostly due to the fact that Scorpius couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Albus’s arms lifted and wrapped around him. It was nicer than nice.

“An adjective exists to describe this,” Scorpius whispered. “But I’ve never learned it, and I’ll need to spend all weekend locating it.”

“I hope this is an adjective with synonyms like… _enjoyable_ , _relaxing, lovely_.”

“ _Cozy, peaceful, right_ ,” Scorpius countered.

“Ah, well, that’s okay, then.” He could hear the smile in Albus’s words.

It was possible they’d die like this. Scorpius could remember the warning in his dad’s voice, and felt it likely that Carrow would go mad, storm in here, and use the Killing Curse on them. But he didn’t much care right then. He was counting Albus’s heartbeats, first in English, then in French, his own breaths slowly shifting to match the rhythm of Albus’s. They breathed together. As Albus drifted off, _onetwo, three, four, fivesixseven, eight, nine_ gradually became _onetwo, threefour, fivesix, seveneight…_

He fell asleep shortly after Albus.

* * *

 

They were late for breakfast.

Hardly anybody was still there when they hurried in, disheveled and pink-cheeked. Scorpius’s lips were still tingling. He couldn’t even find it in himself to worry that they might miss the most important meal of the day; he was too busy replaying his wonderful morning on loop in his mind.

“Albus! Scorpius!”

They turned towards the sound of Rose’s voice. She hurried over with a scowl in place. Scorpius froze. _Uh oh. Why is Rose angry now?_

“Here,” she snapped, and without another word, she slapped a rolled up _Prophet_ against Albus’s chest. He jumped.

“Ow!” he complained.

“Sorry,” Rose said, though she didn’t sound it. “I’m not angry at you. I’m just angry. Look what they’ve said about my aunt!”

“Your aunt?” Albus demanded. He’d opened the _Prophet_. His eyes were wide. “Look what they’re saying about _my mum_!”

Scorpius hurriedly leaned over and stared, much to his surprise, at a photo of Mrs. Potter and _his dad_. They were standing together inside the Ministry, heads drawn close, whispering intently about something. And the headline read: “A Fortune Fit for a Queen: Gold-Digger Potter Sets her Sights on Malfoy Fortune”.

“Oh, for _fuc—”_

Harry appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He snatched the _Prophet_ from Albus’s hands.

“Morning. Don’t read that.”

“Why not?!” Albus demanded.

“Because it’s rubbish that doesn’t deserve to be read. And you’ll get so angry that you’ll end up slamming your fist repeatedly into the suits of armor.”

Scorpius looked immediately down at Harry’s fists. They looked unscathed.

“Oh, no, not me. James.”

“Oh,” Scorpius said. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Albus was seething. Rose was grinding her teeth. Scorpius wanted everybody to be happy again.

“Er…so. If your mum and my dad get married, will we be related? Because I am not okay with that…”

Thankfully, Albus gave a short laugh. He gently shoved Scorpius.

“Sod off. That’s disgusting.”

“The _grossest_ ,” Scorpius agreed. “And I’m sure it’s Rita Skeeter’s topic for her next attack.”

“Almost certainly,” Albus grumbled. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“It’s _been_ ridiculous. Since I was in my fourth year,” Harry corrected. He glanced at his wristwatch. “You two better grab something to eat quickly. It’s fifteen minutes ‘til.”

They inhaled cold porridge and then sped off towards their double Transfiguration class, all the while ignoring the curious stares that seemed to always accompany them.

* * *

 

The lesson was going so well for Scorpius that their professor chose him to deliver something to the Hufflepuff Head of House.

“Hurry back,” she told him. “And if he’s not in his office, tell the portrait beside his door that it’s urgent.”

“Okay,” Scorpius nodded. He hesitated. “Can Albus—”

“Mr. Potter may not accompany you. He has yet to even _lighten_ his rat.”

Albus glowered at their professor’s back. Scorpius shot him an apologetic grimace but had no choice but to leave without him. He made it halfway to his destination without any incident, but as he rounded the corner beside a peculiar painting of an elephant stirring himself inside a giant cauldron, he felt something slam into the back of his head. He cried out and spun around, alarmed, certain that he was about to get hexed—

“Mopey Malfoy meanders around mysteriously!” Peeves cackled. He lobbed another object towards Scorpius. He barely managed to dodge it. “What’s Mopey Malfoy up to, hmmm? Something naughty? Something barmy? Something…gay?”

Peeves threw something else and dissolved into hysterical cackles. Scorpius lifted the book he’d been given by his professor to shield his head.

“Go away, Peeves! I’m not doing anything! I’m just doing what I was told!”

“‘Go away, Peevesy! I’m just doing what I was t-t-told!’” Peeves collapsed into false sobs. “Poor Malfoy—but not as poor as Potter!”

“There’s nothing poor about Albus!”

“Albus, Albus, Albus’s the one! That’s why Potty the Lassie’s in such a strop!”

“Can you please find somebody else to annoy?”

But Peeves was on a roll—literally. He was doing barrel rolls through the air above Scorpius’s head, giggling wildly.

“Potty the Lassie cries and she cries! She even spouts tears from all four eyes!”

Scorpius frowned. He looked up at Peeves, after narrowly dodging a thrown Gobstone.

“Hang on. Are you talking about _Lily_?”

“You’re not very clever, but that’s okay—give me your head, I’ll make good use of your brains—”

“Peeves! You’re—you’re just—worthless, that’s what you are!” Scorpius raged. He stamped off, scanning the corners around himself now, concern filling him at a rapid rate. What did he mean? Why was Lily crying? When had Peeves seen that?

“Wrong way!” Peeves snickered.

Scorpius turned around.

“Either help me or go away!”

“She’s _this way_ —” he swooped down and blew a wet raspberry into Scorpius’s right ear.

“Ugh!” Scorpius cried, disgusted. He shot another glare towards Peeves and turned, heading down the passage to his right. He climbed a staircase at Peeves’s prompting, went down another corridor, and he’d just decided that Peeves had led him on a pointless chase when he spotted her. She was curled up beneath a cobwebbed window, at the very end of the corridor. Scorpius had never been this far, and judging by how dark and neglected it looked, not many people ever came this way. Scorpius frowned and hurried over.

“Lily. What’s wrong?”

She jumped. She lifted her head from her arms and wiped at her streaming eyes. It seemed to take her a moment to realize that it was Scorpius.

“I-I’m _fine_ ,” she snapped. But it didn’t hold its usual punch, thanks to her tears. “How d-did you find me?”

Peeves took that as his cue.

“I brought Mopey Malfoy to see! Potty the Lassie’s been crying a sea. Because Mopey’s with Albusy…I wonder…?”

“That’s _not_ why! And you are the most annoying ghost in the entire world!”

“That’s the plan, Potty! And I’m a _poltergeist_!” With a rude hand gesture, he soared off. Scorpius let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank Merlin he’s gone,” he grumbled. He looked to Lily, expecting her to agree, but she was crying again. Scorpius frowned and walked over. He perched beside her and hesitantly reached out, patting lightly over her hair.

“It’s okay,” he told her gently. “I promise. It’s okay.”

“Y-you don’t even know w-w-what’s wrong,” she wept.

“I don’t need to because I know all the people who care about you. Whatever is wrong—they’ll make it right.”

“They d-don’t know _either_.”

“Oh,” Scorpius said, alarmed. He must’ve had dark places in his mind after all, because immediately, all the nastiest of worst-case scenarios began popping up. He felt sick with worry, but he knew pushing her wouldn’t achieve anything. “You could tell me…if you want to.”

“I _can’t_ …”

“Yes, you can. That’s always the rule. If it’s something you feel you can’t tell—that usually means you _have_ to, for your own good.”

“That’s not even a rule!” she argued.

“It is so. In my house it is.” Scorpius watched her wipe at her face again. Her nose was running obscenely. He quickly patted his pockets, hoping to come up with something for her, but he didn’t carry a handkerchief around. When Lily stuck her hand into her pocket, he assumed she was pulling something out to clean her face up with. But she pulled out something very different.

“Oh,” Scorpius said lamely.

He stared at the wand halves, completely severed except for the thin red feather holding them together. Lily extended her cupped hands and looked away, as if she couldn’t bear to look at it any longer than she had to. Scorpius hesitantly reached out and pulled the broken wand from her hands.

“Did Carrow do this yesterday?” he asked.

She nodded. Her brown eyes were shining behind a film of tears.

“He t-took it from me before I even knew he was there. And then he took my glasses, and I couldn’t see, so I couldn’t—” she half-hiccupped, half-sobbed. She reached up and wiped at her wet face with her cloak sleeves. “And after he broke my glasses, he snapped my wand.”

“And you didn’t tell your mum or dad this, did you?”

“No. I didn’t want them to know that I let him take my wand!” she succumbed into tears. Her face was red. Scorpius could sense that this was something extremely shameful and embarrassing to her, though he wasn’t sure he understood why.

“But you didn’t _let him_. He just did. You can’t stop what you don’t see coming,” he comforted.

“I should have seen it coming, though! I should’ve known better! I feel so…” she trailed off, struggling to find the right word. “… _weak_.”

Horribly, Scorpius burst into laughter. Lily shoved him hard in response.

“Don’t laugh at me!” she yelled.

“No! I’m not—Lily, I’m laughing because you’re the farthest thing from weak there is!”

She shook her head. After a moment, Scorpius realized her entire body was quivering a bit.

“I thought that, too. But I was wrong. Scorpius, I couldn’t do anything. He took my wand. He pushed me. He pinned me against the wall. He could’ve done whatever he wanted and I had no power at all. I never knew that I was like that—I never knew I could be like that. I never knew I could feel so…”

She trailed off. She sniffed.

“Vulnerable?” Scorpius suggested gently.

She began crying again. Scorpius took that as a yes.

“I n-never knew that somebody could _make me_ feel like that,” she continued.

Scorpius gently lifted up the broken wand. He briefly thought about taping it, but knew it was too far gone. There was nothing to be done for it now.

“I’m having the _worst year ever_ ,” Lily wept. And when she wrapped her arms around herself, it reminded Scorpius so much of _himself_ that he wanted to cry too. He didn’t even think about it as he reached forward and pulled her into a hug. She clung to him immediately, crying hard into his neck, her soft hair tickling his arms.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, over and over, his hand patting over her hair nicely.

“I’ve been here all day because I can’t go to class without a wand,” she said. “And I’m scared to be without it.”

He didn’t even think about it. It was automatic. It was just what had to be done in that moment. He leaned back and handed her his.

“I can’t take—”

“Yes. I don’t need it—I’ve done all my work in Transfiguration, then I’ve got Potions, then History of Magic. You can borrow it for today. And _I’ll_ tell your dad—sorry, but he has to know—and as soon as you get a replacement, you can give it back.”

He pressed his wand into her hands. She stared at him, her eyes welling with tears once more.

“You probably think I’m a tearful freak,” Lily sniffed.

“No,” he reassured her. “I think you’re having a really bad year. It’s okay. I had loads of those. Who you are during a bad year isn’t _who you are_.”

To his amazement, she gave a tiny smile. She sniffed again.

“You’re nicer than Albus.”

“I’m his better half,” Scorpius joked. Lily gave a watery laugh. She still hadn’t tightened her grip on the wand. “It’s not a pity gift. You’re my friend. Friends do things for each other. Carrow took your power, so I’ll let you borrow mine.”

Finally, she nodded.

“I don’t think we’re friends, though,” she told him. His heart dropped, but then she continued. “I think we’re more like family.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt as proud of himself as he did right then. She walked with him to drop off the book his professor had given him, and by the time they went their separate ways, she was nearly back to her old self again. Scorpius realized that this must be what it felt like to have siblings. It made him wish he could’ve had one.

* * *

 

That night, Scorpius, Albus, and James went back to Harry’s office. After Scorpius told Harry what happened, he immediately got permission from McGonagall to take Lily to Ollivander’s. They were due back now at any moment, and Harry had promised to bring them all sweets, so everybody was rightfully excited.

“I hope he remembered the chocolate frogs,” Albus said. 

“I doubt he could forget with how many times you requested them,” James muttered. Scorpius had to purse his lips to keep from laughing.

Lily and Harry were in the office when the three entered. Lily wasted no time running over to greet them, but it wasn’t Albus or James she was headed for. Scorpius let out a surprised _oof_ as she barreled into him, her arms winding tight around him in a hug.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“Yeah…any time…” Scorpius gasped. Breathing had suddenly become a chore, thanks to the pressure of her hug. She stepped back and beamed. She held up her new wand a moment later.

“Applewood, phoenix feather, ten inches!” she beamed. “And look at the handle!”

They leaned in. There were tiny, impressively-detailed dragons scattered around the handle of her wand. Albus scoffed.

“He hand-carved dragons into her wand? Favoritism!”

Harry shrugged. “He insisted. Hush.”

From the protective way Harry had his arm around Lily’s shoulders, Scorpius guessed Lily had told him everything.

“Why didn’t Mum come back here? Wasn’t she with you?” Albus asked. He looked around the office as if he thought he may’ve missed her.

“Mum’s busy. She’s with Aunt Hermione,” Harry said shortly. He looked at his watch. “How does it get so late so quickly? Well—here are your sweets, try not to eat them all tonight. And here are your new books, James.”

Happily chatting about their gifts, and in better spirits than before, the four of them set off from Harry’s office. They’d just rounded the corner near the one-eyed witch statue when the sound of footsteps made them stop in place.

“Look what we’ve got,” came a sudden whisper. Scorpius spun around. Halloran Carrow was emerging from an empty classroom, his face impassive, eyes cold. He studied the Potters and Scorpius. “An entire infestation.”

“Move along, Carrow,” James warned, eyeing Halloran cautiously. Scorpius noticed he’d wrapped an arm around Lily, but upon examination of the way Lily had her new wand withdrawn, he figured that was probably out of restraint more than protection. “One word and I’m going straight to McGonagall.”

Halloran’s lip curled up. He gave a short laugh, paused for a brief second, and then approached them. Scorpius reached out and took Albus’s hand by instinct; when he glanced down at him, Albus was staring at Halloran with a frightening expression. After what Carrow had put Lily through, Scorpius was certain that it would only take a few cruel words from Halloran to send Albus over the edge. He tightened his hold on his boyfriend’s fingers.

“I couldn’t care less what you tell that disgusting hag,” Halloran bit.

Halloran had barely finished insulting McGonagall when James’s hand flew to his pocket in response. He had his wand pointed at Halloran’s face before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He ground his teeth, paused, and then he slowly lowered it, though his eyes were filled with boiling hatred.

“I feel sorry for you, Halloran,” he finally said, and the coldness of his voice sent a shiver down Scorpius’s spine, because all at once he knew this was going to get very bad very quickly. He looked around, hoping to spot a passing professor, but the corridor was deserted. He thought about yelling back for Harry but didn’t know if he’d be able to hear them. He glanced at Albus and found him already looking up at him; they locked eyes for a long moment. _We should go now_ , Scorpius was trying to say. But Albus’s eyes said something different. They were hard and determined. He was ready for a fight, and if Albus was fighting, Scorpius supposed he was, too.

“ _You_ feel sorry for _me_?” Halloran demanded. “The first of the Potter Plagues feels sorry for _me_. You should focus on yourself, Potter. How does it feel to have a slag for a mother and an attention-seeking idiot for a dad?”

Scorpius saw a flash of red from the corner of his eye. He didn’t know if it was Quidditch practice honing his reflexes, or if he was just lucky, but he managed to jump forward and grab Lily before she reached Carrow. Scorpius wasn’t sure _what_ she was planning on doing—her wand was held out, but she hadn’t been bellowing an incantation. Shoot a curse close-range? Shove her brand new wand up his nose? Either way, Scorpius was determined they wouldn’t find out.

Easier said than done, though. Lily kicked and writhed in his arms, struggling to make her way across the distance spanning between her and Halloran. Scorpius groaned as she unintentionally elbowed him in the stomach. Albus hurried over and grabbed onto his sister, too, which significantly lessened the blows Scorpius was receiving.

“Stop! Stop it, now!” Albus hissed at Lily. But she was too busy calling Halloran some very offensive (and creative) names.

“Don’t _talk about my parents_!” Lily shrieked, once she ran out of swear words. She gave up her struggling and channeled all her rage into her words. She seemed to practically spit them in Carrow’s face. “My mum kicked your ancient dad’s arse when she was only _sixteen_ —so I know I can kick yours! You’re a disgusting, pathetic bully who doesn’t even have the guts to pick on somebody his own age! You might think our mum’s a slag and our dad’s an idiot, but at least _our_ mum and dad aren’t brother and sister, at least _my mum_ didn’t fuck her own—”

“Whoa,” Scorpius breathed, horrified and taken aback by Lily’s hostility. At the same time as his surprised exhalation, James shot a silencing spell towards Lily.

“Lily—stop!”

Scorpius wasn’t sure what happened—either Lily had learned to do magic without speaking or it was accidental magic—but furious flames shot upwards from the tip of her wand a moment later, catching the tapestry above them on fire. James quickly extinguished the fire. He turned back to Halloran, who was red with rage at this point.

“We’re all going our separate ways now,” James ordered sternly. “ _Go_.”

Halloran made no move in either direction. But, to be fair, neither did Scorpius or any of the Potters. Scorpius heard Albus quietly take the silencing spell off of Lily. She immediately began cursing magnificently underneath her breath as soon as she could again, her eyes locked in on Halloran like a predator fixates on prey right before pouncing. Scorpius nervously tightened his arms around her—just in case.

“You don’t know the first thing about my dad or my aunt,” Halloran told Lily. His voice was _too_ calm. The back of Scorpius’s neck prickled with fear. “A little Weasley slut—not the best person to throw around accusations like that.”

“OI!” James bellowed, outraged. Albus wasted no time on insulted exclamations—he lunged forward immediately. Scorpius barely managed to reach forward and grab a fistful of Albus’s robes, dragging him back in place. He struggled to keep a grip on both Albus _and_ Lily.

“Stop!” Scorpius hissed at them. His arms ached as he struggled to keep them both restrained. “I mean it! Stop! Or I’ll—I’ll! I’ll do something! I’ll—tie you both up!”

He struggled to remember the spell to bind somebody, but thankfully, they both fell still. He could still sense the tension coiled inside of their bodies, but at least they weren’t charging forward recklessly. They were one word away from losing it, though, and when Scorpius glanced at James, he looked like he might’ve been, too. He was picking furiously at the skin around his nails; Scorpius could see blood already dripping from a few fingers. His face was bright red. He’d dropped his wand, no doubt to keep himself from using it. He drew in deep breaths.

“Goodbye, Halloran,” James forced himself to say, and with extraordinary strength, he picked his wand up, stuffed it into his pocket, and turned to leave. He met Scorpius’s eyes and urgently nodded his head down the corridor, urging Scorpius forward. Scorpius had just pushed Albus and Lily around when Halloran spoke again.

“Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy.”

Scorpius froze. He felt warmth span across his cheeks. He couldn’t turn around, but he couldn’t move forward, either.

“Nobody’s surprised, you know. It makes perfect sense. It’s in your blood. Since the dawn of time, Weasleys have been whoring around for rich spouses; you couldn’t help it, just like your mum obviously can’t help going after Draco Malfoy. Pathetic, filthy poor Weasley scum—they’re like parasites.”

James’s voice was quivering now. Whether from angry tears or withheld rage, Scorpius wasn’t sure.

“Two hundred points from Slytherin,” he said. But it didn’t sound very intimidating, thanks to the trembling quality of his words.

Scorpius felt that Halloran deserved that so much that he wasn’t even disappointed. But Halloran didn’t care.

“You’re just like her, aren’t you, Albus?” Halloran continued. Albus turned around slowly, each movement precise and measured. _Oh no. Oh, Merlin. Not today. I promised Dad I wouldn’t do this._ Albus and Halloran locked eyes. Nobody seemed to be breathing. “Just like Mummy, you’ll do anything with two legs for a bit of money. Still—I’ve got to give credit where credit is due. Your mum’s not just any gold-digging slut; she’s _the_ gold-digging slut. She nailed the Boy Who Lived himself, and now she’s sucking the Malfoy fortune dry, too. I wonder—how’s it feel to know that your mum’s been passed around every rich co—”

Albus moved forward so quickly that Scorpius hardly registered the fact that he’d lunged until he was already in front of Halloran. James was there at nearly the same moment, and for a millisecond, Scorpius was relieved, assuming that James was there to pull Albus back. But before Scorpius could do or say anything (he was still restraining a writhing Lily, angrier now than ever) both Albus and James reared their fists back and punched Halloran square in the face, in a moment so synchronized an onlooker would assume they’d planned it.

There was a nauseating _crack._ The hit was hard enough to send Halloran flying backwards off his feet. He landed hard on the floor and slid a few inches down the stone tile. Scorpius’s heart had stopped beating.

“ _Yes_!” Lily was shrieking. “Again! Punch him _again_!”

Albus lunged forward as if to do just that, but James quickly grabbed him. Albus was yelling words that Scorpius had never heard him say before, each word full of hatred and fury. Blood was dripping steadily onto the tiles from Halloran’s broken nose. He was staring wide-eyed at the Potter brothers as if he couldn’t understand how he’d ended up on the floor.

And James was nearly crying. Scorpius’s heart plummeted at the sight. The back of his throat stung as he spotted the tears swelling in James’s dark eyes and the quiver of his lips. Somehow, that made all of this seem even more terrible to Scorpius than the dark blood painting the floor did.  

“Don’t you _ever_ talk about my mum like that again!” James yelled. And this time—it was scarier with the way his words were wobbling. He seemed unstable, volatile. Fierce in his injury, intimidating in his love. “I don’t care if they expel me. I don’t care what they do. If you say it again, I’ll do whatever it takes to shut you up.”

Scorpius probably would’ve burst into terrified tears if James had said that to him, because in that emotional moment, nobody in the hall doubted the things that James would do. But Halloran didn’t reply. He was too busy trying to contain the blood flowing from his nose without actually touching the broken thing; he was currently sitting up, collecting thick blood in the palm of his hand as it dripped. And Scorpius was shaking. He didn’t realize that he was until Lily patted his forearm.

“Are you okay?” she asked him. She’d stopped struggling once her brothers co-punched Halloran, obviously feeling that was a decent punishment. Scorpius met her concerned eyes.

“No,” he admitted.

Albus wasn’t, either. He was still locked in James’s arms, his fists clenched and shaking. Scorpius saw that both his and James’s knuckles were red from where they’d collided as they punched Halloran’s face, and the awkward way that James was holding his hand told Scorpius that he’d probably broken at least one finger.

Scorpius glanced back as they heard approaching footsteps. Everybody froze as a tiny house-elf walked up, a scrubbing brush in hand. She paused as she took in the scene in front of her, her eyes widening in fright. And then:

“ _PROFESSOR POTTER_!” She shrieked, terrified. She took off running towards Harry’s office. “Professor _Harry Potter_!! Help!”

Scorpius was relieved. Harry would understand. Harry would make this right. He would mend Halloran and diffuse James’s and Albus’s rage then he’d punish Halloran for the awful, terrible things he’d said about Ginny and the Weasleys…

 _Thank Merlin_ , Scorpius thought, as Harry came hurrying down the corridor. Scorpius let go of Lily now that Harry was nearby, but it proved to be a mistake. He’d thought she was calm, but the minute he lowered his arms, she charged forward. James tried to reach out to grab her, but he seemed unwilling to let go of Albus (a just assumption—Scorpius could tell Albus was still hovering on the edge of violence). Halloran’s eyes widened in fear as Lily swooped in, red hair swinging wildly behind her, eyes hardened.

“Calling _my mum_ a slag—calling _me_ a slag—calling _my dad_ an attention-seeking fool—calling _my brother_ a gold-digger—you stupid, bloody—”

Scorpius watched in disbelief as she stopped by Halloran’s supine body, dropped her wand carelessly to the floor, and began removing rings from her fingers— _oh, no._

“Lily!” Harry bellowed, outraged. “What are you _doing_?! Get over here _now_! _Now, Lily_!”

Lily didn’t budge. The floor around her was littered with the silver rings she wore on her fingers, her wand, and probably every ounce of her patience. Her small hands were clenched into fists so tight that her knuckles were white.

“Dad,” she drew out tightly, “I have to do this.”

“ _Lily Luna Potter_!”

She was literally grinding her teeth now. Scorpius could hear the clicking sound of her jaw from where he was standing.

“Fine, I won’t punch him,” she leaned over and reached for her wand. “I’ll hex him.”

“ _Lily_!” Harry cried, outraged.

“ _Anteocula—!”_

 _“Expelliarmus!”_  Harry bellowed, but before he could finish:

 _“Protego!”_ Albus yelled, sending a shield in front of Lily, deflecting Harry’s spell. Lily was so surprised that her father had tried to disarm her that she paused her incantation, leaving Halloran temporarily magically-unharmed. 

Harry stared at Albus in disbelief. There was a brief, uncertain pause.

 _“Expelliarmus!”_ he yelled, pointing his wand at Albus, clearly deciding Albus was a threat (which was fair, considering Albus had begun to turn to Halloran again).

 _“Protego!”_ Lily countered, blocking Harry’s spell again. She rounded on Halloran. “ _Anteoculat—_!”

Another silencing spell hit her. She glowered at her dad, screwed her eyes up in concentration, and kept her wand pointed at Halloran, obviously intending to attempt a nonverbal spell.

“Lily, if you don’t _stop this right now_ —”

She spun around, angrily opening her mouth to rant, but no words came out. Harry lifted the spell.

“He called my _mother_ a _whore_!” Lily shrieked.

“He called Lily a slag!” Albus added fiercely.

“He called _Albus_ a slag!” James added.

Harry hesitated. Scorpius saw something flash behind his green eyes—something very similar to the look he’d seen in Albus’s eyes before he struck. Halloran chose the _worst_ possible moment to decide to take revenge.

“Hey!” Scorpius yelled, alarmed. He scrambled for his own wand and pointed it towards Halloran. The Potters were looking at each other, and he thought they’d miss Halloran reaching for his wand, but he’d thought wrong. Harry surged forward, grabbed James (who still had a grip on Albus) and Lily by their arms, and yanked all three behind him, so they were standing in line with Scorpius. Right as Halloran began to bellow an incantation _,_ all hell broke loose. All at once, in the same horrible moment, with all their wands pointed at Halloran:

“ _Protego_!” Harry bellowed.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” James yelled.

“ _Entomorphis_!” Lily shrieked.

“ _Alarte Ascendare_!” Scorpius cried.

“ _Levicorpus_!” Albus bit.

“ _Carnificina_!” Halloran completed.

In the few milliseconds before everything went sour, Scorpius found himself thinking: _we really should’ve communicated more efficiently._

He didn’t know what the cause was exactly. He didn’t know if all their spells had rebounded off of the back of Harry’s shielding charm, or if Halloran had put up his own shield and Scorpius just hadn’t noticed, but there was an almighty _boom_ that shook the corridor, and Scorpius felt a sharp pain in his stomach. A second later, the ceiling had become the floor and the floor the ceiling. He looked around, panicked, suspended by his ankle, having been hit by the needlessly-verbal _levicorpus_ Albus cast. Lily was several yards behind them, sprawled out on her back as if she’d been thrown. She’d most likely been hit by Scorpius’s spell. James’s cloak was mysteriously on fire (Scorpius hadn’t heard anybody bellow a spell that would do that). Albus was puddled on the floor, legs drawn into himself, but Scorpius couldn’t tell what was wrong. And Harry’s wand was halfway down the hall, having received James’s _Expelliarmus._

Scorpius tried to twist his head around to see where Halloran was or what he was doing, but it was impossible to do. He felt terribly frightened and exposed, dangling in the air like a butchered pig from the ceiling, and he was worried about Albus, who had yet to move. He was having a difficult time processing what had just happened.

From the floor, Albus gave a soft, pained whimper, his body still curled into a ball. It had an effect like Scorpius had never seen before as everybody realized what curse he must’ve been hit with—Halloran’s. Scorpius began struggling fruitlessly, his chest filling with rage, his heart split wide.

“Let me down! Get me down!”

James muttered something from his place a couple yards back; Scorpius fell down onto the tile, groaning. He immediately half-ran, half-crawled over to Albus, his hands landing on his back. Albus sat up a moment later, dreadfully clammy and shaken. He blinked at Scorpius.

“I—I can’t—”

“Al,” Harry collapsed at Albus’s side, his hands hovering uncertainly. “Al, what hurts? I’ve never heard that spell he used before. What hurts?”

“My—everything. I—I can’t—”

He doubled over. Scorpius noted many things at once: the paleness of Albus’s skin, the way his arms were clenched around his middle, the choppiness of his breath. Suddenly, like he’d been trained in healing, like he’d seen this before—he knew where to look. He reached forward and untucked Albus’s shirt with a yank. He wrenched it up. Deep purple streaks were blooming across Albus’s abdomen. Scorpius felt faint.

“Oh, no. No.”

“What? What is it?!” Harry demanded.

Scorpius looked up. He felt something snap inside of him. He leapt to his feet and surged over towards Halloran.

“What did you do to him?!” he bellowed. “You’ve made him bleed internally! What did you _do_?! Fix it! Do the counter-curse!” 

Halloran began laughing; a swell of rage overtook the corridor. It was different from before. Quieter, more intense. The spill of alcohol before a dropped match. Scorpius tightened his hand around his wand. Horrible things flooded his mind, but the worst of all was: _crucio, crucio, crucio!_

“Fix it!”

“I can’t. There is no counter-curse.”

“You are _dead,_ Carrow!” James yelled, and he surely only meant it figuratively, but Halloran wasn’t taking any chances. He threw up another shield charm. Scorpius almost reminded him that if James _were_ going to try and kill him the shield charm wouldn’t be effective, but thought better of it.

Halloran tried to laugh jeeringly, but it was weaker than it’d been previously. Scorpius could tell he was growing frightened. He could tell he regretted what he’d done. 

“You’re going to kill me, Potter?”

“No,” James said. His hand was bleeding freely now; he’d picked most of the top layer of skin from around his right thumbnail. Harry was frantically murmuring incantations underneath his breath, his wand sweeping desperately over Albus’s stomach. Lily was racing down the corridor to get Madam Pomfrey. Scorpius couldn’t move. “I’m going to tell Professor McGonagall. And she’s going to tell my Aunt Hermione, the Minister for Magic. And my Aunt Hermione is going to tell my Uncle Ron. And my Uncle Ron will tell my gran and granddad. And my grandparents will tell my Uncle Bill. And my Uncle Bill will Floo my Uncle Charlie. And my Uncle Charlie will Floo my Aunt Angelina and my Uncle George. And by this point, my dad will have told my mum. And _then_ you’ll wish you were dead because every one of them will be _here_. And afterwards, my Uncle Percy will clean up the mess so well that everybody will forget Halloran Carrow even existed.” James narrowed his eyes. “In short: you’re good as dead, Carrow.”

As if she’d heard her name, McGonagall rounded the corner at that moment. She must’ve known something was going on because the sleeves of her dressing gown were pulled up and her wand was out. She was walking at a quick pace. She stopped dead as she came upon them.

“What in the _world—_?”

She surveyed the scene: Halloran standing with a blood-stained face, James’s bloody hands and bruised knuckles, Albus lying weakly on the floor, his torso painted plum, Harry nearly in tears as he tried healing spell after healing spell. She locked eyes with Scorpius.

“Mr. Malfoy, what’s going on?”

A lot had been going on. But only one thing mattered to Scorpius.

“Halloran Carrow used Dark Magic on Albus!”

McGonagall spun around to face Halloran with a fierceness that made the sixth year flinch.

“ _What_?!” she spat.

“I didn’t mean to hit him!” Halloran exclaimed immediately. “I was aiming for _him_!”

He jabbed an accusing finger towards Harry. Harry’s lip trembled. Scorpius heard the words _I wish you’d hit me instead_ as clearly as if Harry had actually said them aloud. McGonagall waved her wand and Halloran cried out in surprise as he was immediately bound by thick chains.

“If you want to act like a criminal, I will treat you like one!” McGonagall shrieked. She sharply jabbed her wand and a straight-backed chair appeared out of nowhere. She waved her wand again and Halloran was forced into it, still bound. “I will _not tolerate it!_ I will _not_!”

Halloran didn’t dare say a word in protest. McGonagall and Scorpius hurried over to Albus at the same moment. Scorpius sat at his head. He gently lifted it and rested it in his lap, his eyes burning fiercely. McGonagall and Harry were talking in rapid, panicked whispers. McGonagall began waving her wand over Albus as Harry had done.

“What was the incantation?”

“I-I don’t know, something like— _carnificina_? _Carnifiationa?_ I’ve never heard it before, not once, not even during my time as an Auror—”

Finally: footsteps.

“Give him here, give him to me,” Madam Pomfrey said urgently. They all moved back as she levitated Albus’s weak body. She settled him on a gurney. Without sparing anybody another word, she took off in a run with him towards the Hospital Wing. Scorpius was finding it difficult to breathe. Tears were burning a path down his cheeks. He felt McGonagall wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“Deep breath, Malfoy,” she advised. “Calm down. I need you to come with me. Harry, Lily, James—you three, too. And _you_ ,” she spat, turning to address Carrow. “You’re about to meet the Minister.”


	5. Kaleidoscope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the longest night of Harry's life. Hermione's knowledge turns the tide. Harry loses his temper. Two sides clash at Hogwarts and James makes a decision.

Harry heard McGonagall, but he couldn’t get himself to move. He stood blankly in place. His eldest son took his hand a moment later and pulled— his blood-slicked hand gripping tightly to Harry’s sweaty palm—but Harry resisted.

“No,” he said. He felt liable to vomit. “No, I have to—I’m going with my son,”

“Harry,” McGonagall said, “Let Poppy—”

“No! No, I need to be there, I’m going there. I don’t want him—alone,” brief memories of all his nights alone in the Hospital Wing. Harry’s hands were quivering; James tightened his grip as if to steady Harry, and that only made him feel worse. He was the dad—he should’ve been comforting James. But he couldn’t function beyond his panic. “Send James and Lily to Molly and Arthur’s…do whatever you want with Carrow, I don’t care, I just need to be with my son.”

McGonagall parted her lips as if to argue, but she never got the chance. Lily raced over to Harry’s side and took his other hand.

“I’m going, too! I want to see Albus!”

“No, Lily, you need to go to—”

“He’s my _brother_!” Lily exploded, outraged. “I’m going _too_!”

“You are _not_!” Harry boomed, both louder and harsher than he’d meant to. Lily burst into frightened, furious tears. Harry had seen her cry more this month than he had the entirety of her last year, but he didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time to argue with his stubborn daughter—he just needed to find Al, needed to make sure that he was okay (alive), needed to make sure that he wasn’t _alone._

Lily snatched her hand from his and turned around so her back was to Harry. He ran a quivering hand through his hair and took a steadying breath.

“Lulu,” he said gently. “You’re going to Gran and Grandad’s house. _AND THEN—”_ he had to raise his voice to near screaming-volumes to drown out her angry cry. “You’ll get to visit Al once he’s stable. Okay?”

Sad, broken sniffling. Both Lily and Harry turned towards it. Scorpius’s head was bowed as he cried softly. He was so upset he was physically shivering as if he’d been immersed in ice water. McGonagall was fixated on him, desperately patting his back, whispering things Harry couldn’t make out from where he was standing, but it didn’t seem to be doing much good. Lily shot one last hateful look Harry’s way and then crossed over to Scorpius. She wrapped him up in her arms in a way so reminiscent of her mother that it made Harry heartsick. Scorpius was still shaking.

“Please, send them _all_ to Molly,” Harry begged McGonagall. He began edging backwards, the frantic anxiety pulsating through him making it impossible to remain still. “First thing. She can get Scorpius to Draco.”

He shook from James’s grip and turned, bolting down the corridors, indifferent to anything but getting to the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible. He collided painfully with Neville right as he sped into the corridor right outside of the Hospital Wing doors.  

“Harry!” Neville cried frantically, but Harry pushed him to the side and kept moving, on and on, through the doors, his eyes scanning the beds—

There. His son. Feeble, pale, purple streaks spanning across his torso, his arms, his legs. Madam Pomfrey’s hands were trembling just slightly as she poured some silver concoction over Albus’s skin. Harry knew from that small sight that her efforts were not going well at all.

And Albus—hemorrhaging internally, blood dripping from his nose and his ears, face ashen—was asking for his mother. Over and over, his voice younger and more frightened than Harry had heard in years. It pulled out the most instinctive pain Harry had ever felt. His stomach bottomed out. His eyes burned. He could’ve doubled over from the intensity of it. All he knew was that this was his child. His suffering (dying?) child. And he couldn’t do anything to ease his pain. Nothing had ever hurt worse, and he’d felt every pain out there.

“I want my mum,” Albus wept, “please, I want my dad and mum. Please.”

“Shh now, Potter, don’t speak, don’t get upset—”

“I want to tell them— I want to see them!” Albus insisted. And it occurred to Harry that Albus thought he was dying. His legs grew weak and threatened to buckle from underneath him. He was at Albus’s bedside in an instant, his hands quick to settle on his son’s face.

“I’m here, Al, it’s okay,” Harry comforted. He used the sleeve of his cloak to wipe at the blood streaming from his son’s nose. Albus seemed horribly disoriented.

“Dad,” he said, “Dad, it hurts, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t!”

“What? No. No, Al, don’t apologize, there’s nothing to apologize for,” Harry said. His cloak sleeve was already drenched in blood, but the blood was still pouring out. Harry was gasping for breaths. He turned to look at Pomfrey. “Fix this, fix it!”

“I have to send him to St. Mungo’s. I don’t know what else to do. Neville says this is what—…”

Madam Pomfrey broke off. Harry paused the pointless staunching of Albus’s nose and glared at her.

“What? _Wha_ t?!”

“Harry.” Neville crossed over to Albus’s bed. He was teary-eyed. “I think the Carrows used this during the Battle of Hogwarts. We found the bodies at the end. We didn’t know _what_ …they were just drained of all their blood…but their skin looked like this.”

Harry stared at Neville until Neville was a blurry mass. He couldn’t understand what Neville was saying. It didn’t make any sense. That couldn’t be true. Because this was _Albus._ This was Harry’s son. He couldn’t.

His horrified disbelief was ruptured by the sudden, panicked sound of Albus choking. Harry spun back around and Madam Pomfrey rushed forward. Albus’s lips were parted; dark ruby blood was bubbling up his throat, spilling frothy and thick from his lips. His green eyes were widened in panic, his nails clawing at his throat, a horrible, retching sound tearing from him as he struggled to inhale.

“Harry! Harry, what’s going on?! My mum said McGonagall said—”

There was the sound of something falling. A horrified cry. Harry couldn’t even get himself to move long enough to glance back at his wife.

“Roll him over!” Pomfrey shrieked at Harry, tearing through his frozen state. He quickly shoved Albus over onto his side. Ginny reached the bedside right as Pomfrey began siphoning blood from their son’s throat.

“What happened?! Harry, what happened?!”

“Longbottom! Neville, get the gurney, get the Floo powder, tell them all you know, tell them we’re coming, tell them it’s critical—”

Neville tripped in his haste to obey. Albus began choking again in the brief second Pomfrey had stopped her siphoning. Ginny’s hands were on Albus’s purple chest, shaking and searching, as if there were a way to help him that she hadn’t yet found. Albus was peering up at her, an odd expression in his eyes. Harry realized, with a sickening lurch to his heart, that it was hope. Like she might be able to fix this. Like he was five years ago again, running to mummy with a skinned knee; like a kiss and a quick healing charm could mend it all.  

“Mum,” he said, “I’m—” he coughed hard; blood spurted all over Ginny’s face, all over Pomfrey’s arm. He began seizing violently right afterwards. His eyes rolled back into his head, his jaw locked, barring Pomfrey from being able to siphon anymore. Blood trickled at an alarming rate from his ear canal; his eyes grew distant. Pomfrey panicked.

“Now! Longbottom, tell them we’re coming _now—_ I don’t care how long the wait is!”

“No,” Ginny gasped, as Pomfrey levitated Albus onto the gurney and rushed towards the fireplace in what seemed like an impossible amount of time. Ginny darted after them. “Not without me! _Not without me! Don’t you dare!”_

But Pomfrey had already exclaimed ‘ _St. Mungo’s!’_ by the time Ginny reached them. Albus disappeared from them in a swirl of green. Harry’s knees buckled. He hardly felt the sting as his knees slammed the ground. He thought he might be sick, and his entire sleeve was drenched with his son’s blood, and the bed he’d been on was red, and Harry couldn’t lose him, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t—

His wife slammed into him. Her hands gripped the front of his cloak.

“What happened?! What the hell happened?! What’s wrong with our son?!”

Harry couldn’t find the words. Ginny shook him.

“Harry!”

Without warning, after a few more long moments of his stunned silence, she burst into tears. Overcome with the horror of what they’d both seen, she fell back onto her bottom on the floor, her left hand rising to press over her blood-splattered mouth. Harry was beginning to feel like none of this was real. Not the sticky blood on his sleeve. Not the eerily quiet Hospital Wing. Not the blood on Ginny’s face and neck. Not his strong wife crumbling to pieces beside him on the Hospital Wing floor. It was a nightmare. It was the worst nightmare he’d ever had. It had to be.

“Ginny,” Neville said quietly. He walked over. He immediately sank down, so he was sitting on the floor, too. He pulled his cloak sleeve down and reached forward, gently wiping some of Albus’s blood from Ginny’s face. “Halloran Carrow used one of his dad’s curses.”

“On _my son_?” Ginny croaked. “Why?!”

“He was aiming for me,” Harry said. His voice sounded dull and empty. He felt empty. Something had shut off inside.

“We’ve got to go; we have to go to St. Mungo’s.” Ginny grabbed onto Harry’s arm and tried to pull him up with her as she stood, but he couldn’t get himself to move. He just kept picturing his son’s face, blood-drenched and panicked. If he hadn’t put up a shield…if he’d just let his kids handle it, the way he’d always handled things when he was their age…why did he insist on pretending he knew better, just because he was an adult? He didn’t. He caused this. If he hadn’t intervened, he could’ve taken the curse; that was only fair. He had lived longer than he’d ever imagined, had he not? He could have spared Albus this. He could have spared him more pain.

Ginny wasn’t having it. “Harry!”

He couldn’t feel anything until she took his face firmly in her hands. He met her steady gaze.

“Harry,” she repeated, but it was softer this time. Her cheeks were shining, still damp from her tears, pink and brown streaked from the smeared and dried blood. “It isn’t your fault. But you need to find a way to break through this, because I’m going to St. Mungo’s, and I’ll be _incredibly_ cross if I have to go alone.”

Alone. No—he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t make her do that alone. He focused on the feeling of her palms against his face, and then the chilly bite of the stone floor through his trousers, and then the far-off sounds of rapid whispering coming from outside of the Hospital Wing. Focusing on the physical helped bring his mind into sharper clarity, but he almost wished he hadn’t. He was floored by an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and dread.

“St. Mungo’s,” Ginny prompted.

“St. Mungo’s,” he agreed. His lungs felt tight. He stood and they hurried towards the fireplace.

“Aunt Ginny? Uncle Harry?”

They turned around to see Roxanne hurrying towards them. The whispering Harry had heard earlier was courtesy of a tangle of sleepy students from nearly every house, grouped around the open doorway of the Hospital Wing, watching with morbid curiosity. Harry didn’t know how long they’d been there, but he figured it couldn’t have been very long; if Roxanne had seen Albus that way…

“What happened?! What’s wrong? Where’s James? Where’s Lily? They weren’t in their dorms. Why is there blood on your face, Aunt Ginny?”

She looked uncharacteristically young in her worry. She was wringing her hands. Her usual confident flame was dimmed to a flicker. Her hair was wrapped in a silk covering and her dressing gown was hastily tied. The entire school must’ve heard rumors by now. How did word spread so quickly?

“Al was attacked by Halloran Carrow,” he said. She deserved to know. Albus’s family deserved to know. “He’s at St. Mungo’s.”

“What? Carrow in my year? Is Al okay, what happened, can I go with you?”

“No, I need you to stay. Let Louis, Hugo, and Rose know. Lily and James are with Gran.”

“But—”

“We’ll send for you and your cousins once he’s…when he’s…” Ginny broke off, her voice thick and wavering. Roxanne was horrified.

“Aunt Ginny? How bad is it?”

Harry found the strength to reach over and wrap an arm around Ginny.

“We’ll send for you as soon as we can. Stay together,” he told Roxanne.

He and Ginny stepped into the Floo. Harry’s voice was shaking so much that he doubted they’d end up where they were meant to.

* * *

 

They didn’t. They tumbled out into some poor elderly wizard’s kitchen. He jumped, spilled half his mug of warm milk down his front, and had just barely begun stuttering ‘H-Harry Potter?!’ when Ginny apologized and Harry tried again. Finally, they spun into St. Mungo’s. It was exceptionally busy for the late hour. Ginny stumbled over to the reception desk without even bothering for her dizziness to pass.

“Our son, Albus Potter, he—”

The receptionist immediately stood. She rounded around the desk and wrapped an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

“This way, Mrs. and Mr. Potter,” she said, guiding Ginny towards the lifts. Harry briefly registered the fact that they were being _personally escorted_ , but the reasons for such were too terrifying to consider. He trailed after them, his heart pounding and his nausea peaking once more. She brought them to the fourth floor. She walked them past the rooms dedicated to normal spell damage to a dark set of double-doors, leading to an area exclusively for Dark Magic. She pushed them open. There were five beds. The only one occupied was the one their son was in. His skin was unusually white and there were four healers grouped around him, including—

“Uncle Harry!” Victoire spun around, tears sparkling in her clear blue eyes, and flung herself into Harry’s arms. He was too shocked to hug back. Ginny lifted his arms for him and wrapped them around their niece; he quickly tightened his hold.

“Victoire, is he okay?”

“We’re doing all we can. He’s lost so much blood. He was bleeding everywhere. We don’t—we don’t know what to do,” Victoire admitted. Her voice tore near the end. Harry saw Ginny stumble from the corner of his eye, and when he glanced over, a young man with hair the color of freshly-dug earth caught her. Teddy hugged her fiercely, his eyes turning from Albus-green to Ginny-brown, his face ashen no matter which skin tone he shifted to.

“Weasley,” another healer called quickly. Victoire stepped back from Harry, wiped at her eyes, and returned to the bed. She began siphoning blood with her wand like Pomfrey had been doing. Another healer was steadily administering what Harry recognized as Blood Replenishing potion. Another was waving their wand in a series of dizzying circles over Albus, murmuring words that made a multi-colored glow envelop him. The fourth was overseeing it all, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She caught Harry’s eye. She looked away.

Teddy brought Ginny over to a row of chairs beside Albus’s bedside, but Ginny had no interest in sitting. She shrugged Teddy’s arm off and came to stand beside Victoire.

“How can I help?” she pleaded.

Victoire glanced once at Ginny and seemed to instinctively sense what Harry did—that she was on the cusp of panicking. Ginny was not the sort of person who panicked easily, so the idea of that appeared to be as terrifying for Victoire as it was for Harry. She quickly took Ginny’s hand and showed her the correct way to hold Albus’s head steady. Harry approached the end of the bed. He set his palm on Albus’s calf. He drew in a shallow, shaky breath. Teddy came to stand at his side, his arm wrapping firmly around Harry’s shoulders. Harry let his eyes shut as he drew in another stunted breath. His godson stood steady, holding Harry up, his hair gradually shifting to the darkest of blacks.

* * *

It was the longest night that Harry had ever lived—and he’d lived some very long ones.

He and Ginny spent most of it standing at Albus’s beside, doing anything and everything the healers asked of them, their hands shaking from too many mugs of tea and coffee, their knees aching from hours of standing. Neither seemed willing to sit. They both refused to rest. And Albus bled, and bled, and bled.

“You should bring everybody here,” Victoire told them around five that morning, her eyes shadowed and soaked. The words squeezed the air from Harry’s lungs. He spent the next five minutes in the adjoining toilets, sobbing so hard he nearly vomited, his mind a mess of bodies falling through veils, of bright green lights wrenching screams from throats, of the sting of realizing you’ll never speak to somebody again. The missing. All the longing and the pain and the tragedy. A shifting glimpse at memory after memory: the first time he cradled Albus and the perfect weight of his tiny body (so fragile but full of weighty potential all at once), Albus’s first time saying _dada_ and the way he’d giggled so proudly, his tiny hand in Harry’s as they visited his grandparents’ grave on Halloween, his shrieking laughs as Harry tossed him up into the air and the perfect trust shining in Albus’s eyes. He replayed it all until the memories felt like punishments.

Ginny was unreachable in a way he’d never seen before in all his decades of knowing her. She didn’t seem to hear anything the Healers said. She stretched out on the bed beside their son, her arms holding him close like he was a toddler camping in their bed after a nightmare, her eyes bone-dry but somehow aching even more for it.

And Al didn’t wake. He didn’t stir. He was far away, untouchable, drained dry and in constant pain (as one of the Healers cruelly mentioned while in earshot). After hours of this, with no progress being made, with their son hemorrhaging faster than the Blood Replenishing potion could be administered, Harry found himself wondering if perhaps their efforts were inhumane.

Their entire family came, even Uncle Charlie. Ginny didn’t move from Albus’s side, but her eyes diligently took stock of every head.

“Where’s Scorpius?” she asked Harry. They were the first words she’d spoken in hours.

“I don’t know…Molly, did you send Scorpius off to Draco already?”

“Draco collected him within minutes of arriving,” Molly answered. Her words were barely audible over her sobs. She was lying on Albus’s other side, her shaking hand stroking his hair back.

Harry met Ginny’s eyes. Words weren’t needed. He nodded once, rose from the chair, and headed towards the doorway. He was blocked by Hermione.

“Where’s Victoire?” she demanded. She pushed urgently past Bill, past Ron, past Percy, her arms full of ancient books, and in her hand was a vial of brownish liquid; it looked vaguely familiar to Harry, but he wasn’t able to focus on it long enough to recall why. “Victoire—I used Veritaserum on Carrow and his remaining family, and if there is a counter-curse they all managed to fight the potion and none would admit it. They all swore it’s never been used since the Battle of Hogwarts, and all those victims died within the hour, and nobody really knew why. But I think—come here, look, I broke into the Department of Mystery’s library, I think we should try this—”

Hermione and Victoire stepped over to the side. Hermione opened the topmost book. Harry hesitated for a moment more, but then he locked eyes with Ginny again and remembered the reason behind the urgent squeeze of his heart. He rushed from the room. He grabbed the first Healer he saw.

“Please, I need to use the Floo, where can I—?”

“This way, Mr. Potter,” she said immediately. She grabbed the crook of his arm and led him to the end of the hall, into a tea room. He fell down onto the threadbare carpet and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. He closed his eyes as his head soared and spun. He blinked them open once he heard the sounds of quiet sobs.

Draco blinked, mildly surprised, his arms wrapped around Scorpius. They looked to have been on their way somewhere (Draco was holding the Floo pot, Scorpius had a coat on).

“Harry.”

“Scorpius needs to come to St. Mungo’s right now.”

Draco’s eyes flooded with fear. His arm around Scorpius tightened. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“We were on our way anyway. Which ward?”

“I’ll meet you down at the main Floo connection.”

* * *

 

Scorpius walked ten paces ahead of them the entire way. He turned the wrong direction preemptively, so keyed in on finding Albus that he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. Harry called corrective directions to him each time, gently redirecting him. Scorpius finally spotted the double doors of the Dark Magic ward and broke into a run, barreling through the doors, his face nearly whiter than his blond hair. The alarmed cry he gave a moment later nearly made Harry fall over. He stopped in place, his heart inching down. _No, no, no, no, no—_

“Where is he?” Scorpius asked, panicked. He’d fallen still in the doorway. His head was turned in the direction of the bed Albus had been in. “Where did he go?!”

Harry’s vision was tilting. He briefly heard Ginny tell Scorpius that they’d taken Albus away to try a new procedure, but Harry’s mind was already reeling even from the few seconds that he’d thought Al was— _no, no. No._  

“Potter. Potter!” Draco roughly shook Harry, hard enough that Harry’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and nearly fell off. Harry stumbled and leaned against the corridor wall. “Are you going to faint, you stupid, dramatic git? Get up! Get _up_!”

Even through his blurry vision, Harry recognized that Draco looked liable to punch him in the face. Ron seemed to agree with the urge to punch somebody, but it wasn’t Harry. He was crossing their path, levitating a tray burdened with nearly a dozen tea mugs, and at the sound of Draco’s words, he let the tray crash to the floor. Draco barely had time to shield his face as Ron launched forward.

“Don’t—you—dare! _My_ —best—mate! You—have—no— _idea_!”

“You punch like a girl!” Draco yelled, hands half-heartedly shielding his body from Ron’s various punches.

“How about I tell Hermione or Ginny or Angelina what you just said and let them show you how a girl punches?!” Ron roared. “Let me get your face! Let me hit your face!”

“Get off me, you idiot!”

“Ron!” Molly shrieked. “Stop this! We have enough going on! _Now_ , Ronald!”

A Weasley—Percy perhaps, it was difficult to tell with his glasses still lowered—hurried out and grasped Ron’s shoulders, pulling him back. Harry reached up and straightened his glasses. To Harry’s horror, Ron had tears glistening in his eyes. His cloak was splattered with scalding tea.

“You have no idea,” Ron said, chest heaving, emotion smothering the hall. “Don’t say that to him.”

“I know that Harry falling apart doesn’t do his family any good,” Draco snapped coldly.

Ginny appeared in the doorway. It was the first time she’d left Albus’s side since they’d arrived. She clenched her jaw as her eyes scanned over the scene.

“That’s _enough_!” she snapped. The circles underneath her eyes were darker than Harry had ever seen. “Draco, I don’t need you telling Harry how to care for his family. Ron, Harry doesn’t need you fist-fighting for him. Harry, I’m sorry, I tried to tell the Healer to warn you that Albus had left, so you wouldn’t think—”

She broke off, as unable to speak the words as Harry was of thinking them. Scorpius was still staring at Albus’s empty, blood-stained bed.

“Let’s all sit,” Molly ordered. When nobody moved, she narrowed her eyes. “That was not a suggestion. Now!”

Everybody—even Draco—moved forward towards the ward. Molly waved her wand, cleared the tea mess, and then sent George to get more tea for everybody. Harry waited until everybody had entered the room except for Ginny. They stared at each other for a moment, exhausted eyes boring into exhausted eyes, a million horrible worries perched right at the forefront of their minds. Harry could’ve burst into tears as easily as his wife could’ve. But instead, they took a step forward at nearly the same moment and met in the middle. Harry slowly wrapped his arms around her; she did the same. They stood in the middle of the hall, faces pressed into shoulders, breathing deeply to subdue the building sobs. Harry squeezed his eyes shut until the burning stopped. He tightened his grip on Ginny and felt perfectly understood within her embrace. She was hurting as much as he was. She felt the same. It was a blessing and a curse.

“It’s not over yet,” she whispered into his neck, fiercely and thick. “Don’t give up.”

He couldn’t reply; to speak would be to cry. He buried his face into her jumper and held her tighter.

* * *

 

He and Ginny had consumed seven mugs of tea since arriving at St. Mungo’s. Harry’s heart was racing and his palms were sweaty, but that could’ve easily been from the stress rather than the caffeine.

It took three hours, but finally, Victoire reappeared. She was covered in blood and was exceptionally peaky. The entire room seemed to be holding their breath. And then—she smiled.

Ginny bowed forward, her face pressing into her thighs, her breaths coming out in thankful, rapid gasps. Molly hurried forward and began Scourgifying the blood from Victoire’s robes. Harry’s head was spinning again. All he could think was _thank Merlin._

“We used some Muggle machine. It cycled his blood in and out of his body. We mixed essence of dittany in with it as it cycled through. We really didn’t think…” Victoire trailed off. She offered Hermione a weak smile. “Thank Merlin for your library skills, Aunt Hermione.”

For about the millionth time in Harry’s life, he was breathless with gratitude for the existence of Hermione Granger. He rose to pull her into a hug, but half a dozen other family members had beaten him to it. She looked a bit surprised from the middle of the exuberant huddle, her dark, elegant hand patting each of their backs in turn. Scorpius Malfoy wormed his way into the embrace without a moment’s hesitation.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—” he kept repeating tearfully, his arms squeezing Hermione tightly. She’d never looked less dignified. She’d never looked more loved.

“Well, I broke nearly a dozen serious laws tonight, so if I get booted from office—”

“Nobody would dare,” Ron told her fondly.

Harry and Ginny were taken back to see Albus, tucked away in a private post-procedure room. He was still asleep, but he looked better already (or, at least, he wasn’t bleeding profusely). They sat side-by-side at his bedside, hands joined, eyes resting on their middle child. They shared a quiet sigh. There were no words to explain the relief coursing through Harry, the relief he knew that Ginny felt, too.

Ginny’s relief gave way to a cautious contentment. Harry’s gave way to a building rage.

“Carrow did this. He knew what this curse did. His dad created it. It might not be an Unforgivable, but it _is_ unforgivable. What did Hermione do with him? Where is he now?”

Ginny looked at him. “I don’t know. Hermione didn’t say. I didn’t think to ask, not with Al…you know.”

He did know. Their son’s life had taken precedence over everything. Harry rose.

“I’ve got to find out. I need to make a statement. I need to make sure he’s punished.”

She looked like she would’ve liked to have asked him to stay, but she knew him better than that. She nodded once.

“Give him my love,” she bit darkly. Her eyes were cold. Harry felt a brief chill.

“I’ll do just that.”

Ginny was gripping Albus’s hand as Harry quietly walked from the room. He made it a few steps and then spotted the very person he was looking for. Hermione was wringing her hands.

“How is he?”

“Better. Much better,” Harry said, and then he seized Hermione in a sudden hug.

“Harry, I really didn’t do anything, I only did what I always do—”

“And what you always do always saves the day. You saved his life, Hermione.”

She patted Harry’s back. He was preparing to pull back when he heard a sudden snap, followed by the sound of smoke. He reared back like he’d been punched in the face.

Rita Skeeter stared at him. He stared at her. Hermione cautiously grabbed onto Harry’s hand in warning.

“Oh,” Rita cackled gleefully. She peered over the top of her gaudy spectacles as she examined the photo she’d captured. “Ginny Potter runs into Draco Malfoy’s arms; Harry Potter is seen in Hermione Granger’s. I always knew there was something there. I always knew you wouldn’t be faithful. I came here to see what Scorpius Malfoy did to Albus Potter, and instead, I find _this_.” She leaned to the right, peeking towards the halfway open door Harry had just come out of it, the door leading to his critically ill son and his wife. “Now, all I need is a statement from my nasty colleague who’s gotten exactly what she’s always deserved—”

“Harry—no!” Hermione cried, horrified. But it was too late. His mind snapped, his rage surged. He wrenched his hand from her grasp and threw himself at Rita Skeeter. She let out a shrill shriek as he slammed her into the wall, his hands pressing her shoulders back against the wood paneling. She made fruitless grasps for her wand, but Harry shoved his hand into her cloak pocket and removed it before she could even graze it. He threw it down the hallway, his heart racing, his rage over everything cumulating in this one, awful moment. Rita let out a terrified squeak, her eyes magnified in horror behind her glasses. Harry’s vision was blurrier than it ought to have been.

“I swear on everything, I swear on every _one_ I love, Rita, if you print one more bloody thing about my family—one more word about my wife, one more word about my son or Scorpius Malfoy or James or Teddy or _anybody_ —I will make you wish you were dead.”

“ _Harry_!” Hermione shrieked. “He doesn’t mean that, Rita, he’s not thinking clearly—”

“I mean precisely what I say!” Harry roared. Rita was breathing deeply, eyes chained on Harry’s face. “This is your fault. This is _you_ , Rita. This is what Ginny’s been trying to tell you for decades. Your words have consequences. Every time you exaggerate and lie, somebody gets hurt, and this time, it was my _son_! You are responsible! You nearly took his _life_!”

“I did no such thing! I can’t be responsible for the ways people respond to my words, those are _their actions_ —”

“Halloran Carrow used _your words_ to bait my sons! Halloran Carrow has surely been reading your shit articles for his entire life! You’ve been making weekly statements about my insanity for his entire lifespan; you’ve suggested over and over again that I’m not fit to be in power, you’ve planted the idea that I’m executing people over past crimes without considering anything, much less the fact that I didn’t have the _power to make those decisions alone in the first place_ —”

Rita laughed nervously. “You’re Harry Potter; your opinion is law.”

“And now he’s tried to _execute me_ and nearly succeeded in executing my _son_! My _child,_ Rita! And I’ve HAD ENOUGH!”

His words echoed down the hallway. Hermione recoiled.

“I AM TIRED OF YOU USING MY FAMILY TO GET ATTENTION! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF WAKING TO LIES ABOUT MY FAMILY! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF MY WIFE WAKING WITH TENSION HEADACHES BECAUSE OF YOU, ENOUGH OF MY CHILDREN FLINCHING EVERY TIME A _PROPHET_ IS DELIVERED TO SOMEBODY SITTING NEAR THEM AT SCHOOL, ENOUGH OF BEING ACCUSED OF CHEATING ANYTIME I SO MUCH AS SMILE AT SOMEBODY IN PUBLIC!”

People were coming out of their wards now, interested and drawn to the conflict. Harry couldn’t care less.

“I DIDN’T SACRIFICE EVERYTHING SO YOU COULD TORMENT THE PEOPLE I LOVE! ALL I HAVE ASKED IN RETURN—ALL I HAVE _EVER_ ASKED IN RETURN FOR ALL HERMIONE, RON, AND I DID—WAS PRIVACY AND RESPECT! AND I HAVE BEEN DENIED THAT AT EVERY TURN! AND IF IT WERE JUST PEOPLE WANTING DAMN—SODDING—AUTOGRAPHS, THAT’D BE ONE THING! BUT IT’S YOU INVADING MY PRIVACY! IT’S YOU ACCOSTING MY UNDERAGE CHILDREN! IT’S YOU CALLING MY WIFE, CALLING HERMIONE, CALLING ALL MY FEMALE RELATIVES SLUTS AT EVERY TURN; IT’S YOU MAKING MY SON’S LIFE COMPLICATED AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY! ENOUGH!”

People were whispering and staring. Hermione had her face buried in her hands. Rita was cringing back from Harry, eyes widened in horror, obviously convinced he was going to strangle her at any moment—and he hadn’t yet ruled that out. He was momentarily distracted by an approaching figure.

“Autograph?” the man asked brightly, entirely indifferent to the screaming. “Why, honestly, if you wanted my autograph dear lady, all this fuss was surely unnecessary! I have headshots in the following styles: autumn, beach, and Father Christmas—”

“Gilderoy!” A Healer hissed, hurriedly coming over and taking Gilderoy Lockhart into her arms. Everybody was gaping. “S-sorry, Mr. Potter, he doesn’t…he doesn’t really _understand_ …”

Harry was slowly coming back to his senses. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his head. He let go of Rita’s shoulders and stepped back. He swallowed hard.

“By all means, Lockhart,” he said, turning his eyes to the frail, lost man. “Give Rita an autograph. We all know how she likes to cozy up to the rich and famous and suck everything from them.”

He thought about his next words just long enough to understand that Hermione would be furious with him. But he had to do what he had to. He couldn’t have Rita Skeeter spying on Albus while he recovered. He couldn’t have her accusing _Scorpius_ of doing this to him.

He turned around and stared at all the Healers, Medi-wizards/witches, and visiting family crowded around.

“Rita Skeeter is an unregistered animagus who has trespassed on private property innumerable times, and the Ministry knows this and refuses to do anything about it.”

The buzzing conversation had already begun as he stormed off.

* * *

 

“Why’d you have to do that, mate?!” Ron hissed.

Harry tried to step through the doorway, but Ron flung his hand out and pressed it to the doorframe, barring Harry’s entrance. Inside the room, Scorpius and Albus were lying on the bed facing each other, involved in their own conversation. The rest of the Weasley, Granger-Weasley, and Potter clan were lounging about the ward, involved in their own conversations, allowing the boys to have their moment. Harry met Ron’s eyes.

“How can you ask me that, Ron?” he demanded. “You know why I had to do it.”

“Er…because you publically spat in Hermione’s face?” Ron demanded. “Hermione’s been working with Ginny and Malfoy nonstop; she _was_ doing something!”

Harry felt a brief sting of shame. Hermione had already run off to the office to deal with the press ahead of time. Harry couldn’t meet Ron’s eyes.

“Not quickly enough. I had to do it, Ron. We’ve tried to do it her way. We’ve tried to be patient, we’ve tried to change the laws first, but you read Rita’s last article. Did you like her saying those things about your little sister? Because she was going to say those same things about your _wife_ , Ron. Who knows who would’ve been next? Rose? Roxanne? Victoire? Lily?”

Harry tried to shove past Ron again. Ron pushed him aggressively back this time.

“No, we’re talking about this!” Ron snapped. “We can either talk about it here in the doorway, or we can talk about it in the tea room.”

“How about we don’t talk about it at all?”

“How about you stop acting like a massive git just because you’re upset and angry and frightened? Hermione and I didn’t do any of this. We’ve been on your side longer than anybody. And we’re not going to let you take all of this out on us.” A pause. Ron glowered. “And _I_ won’t let you take it out on _my wife_.”

“Oh, here we go…”

“Yeah, here we go!” Ron said. “You’d better believe it, Harry! Here we sodding go! If I’d done the same to _Ginny_ you’d be in my face with ‘ _my wife_ this _’_ and ‘ _my wife_ that’!”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? How so? How’s it different at all?” Ron challenged.

Harry parted his lips, but he found himself at a loss of what to say. Everything he instinctively thought to reply with was wrong and cruel, and surely only something he was thinking because he was furious and guilty.

“Hermione’s not just ‘your wife’, she’s my friend.”

“And your wife is my sister. What the hell are you getting at? What does that have to do with anything?”

It didn’t have anything to do with anything. Harry was just trying to piss Ron off enough to make him storm away, so he could avoid this conversation.

“Well, when you start acting like Hermione’s _yours_ and you get to dictate who and under what terms people interact with her—”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off, Harry. Stop. You don’t need to try; I’m _already_ pissed off at you,” Ron said coldly.

Harry saw a flash of red. He glanced over Ron’s outstretched arm; Ginny was approaching. Ron glowered at her and pointed in the opposite direction.

“Stay out of it, Ginny! This has nothing to do with you! And, frankly, you’ve done enough, too.”

She scoffed. “You aren’t going to talk to _me_ like _that_ —”

“Ginny!” Molly scolded, off from where Harry couldn’t see her. “Stay out of Ron’s business!”

“ _Mum!_ ” Ginny complained.

She went over to argue with Molly. Harry ground his teeth.

“Tea room,” he said curtly.

“Fine. Great,” Ron snapped.

They didn’t say a word as they walked to the end of the corridor. It was empty except for Teddy and Victoire, stretched out on the sofa, Teddy’s ear resting over Victoire’s budding baby bump. He appeared to be mid-coo.

“I know it doesn’t have fully-formed ears yet,” Teddy told them defensively, after a moment’s pause. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t feel the vibrations of words.”

“Don’t call it ‘ _it’,_ ” Victoire complained.

“What? _You_ just called it ‘it’ _!”_

“Could you two take this elsewhere?” Ron requested.

“We _could_.”

“Go, Vic,” Ron ordered. “Please.”

“Oh, fine.”

Teddy and Victoire were bickering about unisex names as they left the tea room, leaving Ron and Harry facing each other, uncertain.

“I wasn’t trying to make life harder for Hermione,” Harry finally said. He looked at his hands. He pressed his thumb over _I must not tell lies_ and watched the skin blanch. “I just—lost it, honestly, Ron. I needed something to be done about this—right then. Hermione…I know she’s been trying to do things the ‘right way’…but don’t you see how much pain that’s caused my family?”

“It’s bigger than you and your family, mate. I know it’s difficult to see that sometimes. When people are rude to Hermione or my kids, I see red…it’s really frightening, actually…but Harry, there’s a reason she’s doing things the way she is. You didn’t even try to see things from her point of view.”

It briefly occurred to Harry how emotionally mature Ron had become in the decades of being Hermione’s husband.

“How could I? With Rita saying the things that she is.” A pause. “She was about to storm into the room with Albus and Ginny, Ron.”

“I know. I know—and I would’ve killed her if I were in your shoes. But Hermione knows what she’s doing. Blimey, she’s the _only_ sodding person who knows what they’re doing anymore. She had a plan and it made  _sense_ if you’d only asked her. She couldn’t just arrest Rita out of the blue. Rita would’ve warped it into a freedom of speech issue. She would’ve said Hermione knew about the animagus thing all along and blackmailed her with it to keep her from saying anything negative about her family members—”

“So?” Harry demanded. “Would anybody blame her?”

“Yeah! They would, Harry! It’d look horrible—like she was misusing her power! Like she’d twisted the laws, sat on valuable information, and only chose to arrest Rita when it was beneficial for _her_ and _her family._ Hermione said it was better for all of us to keep Rita as subdued as possible while the laws were changed because then we’ve got a solid fix. But now, arresting her and getting her going on ‘free speech’ before the laws have been put into effect…she’s got the power to start an entire riot over them. She’s going to turn this into something extremely nasty that could really hurt our society forever. You’ve been looking at the short-term. You haven’t been considering the long-term.”

Harry felt worse and worse with every word Ron said. He _hadn’t_ considered the long-term outside of his family. All he’d thought about was them, and at the time, he thought that made everything justified. But perhaps that was the problem with his actions.

“I didn’t want to hurt Hermione, Ron. I just wanted to keep Rita from hurting Albus, and Ginny, and James, and Lily, and—everybody, basically.”

“I know. But you’ve just made things horrible for Hermione. Do you understand what you’ve done? Now she’s going to be _forced_ to arrest Rita. She’s going to have to address what you said publically, and she’ll either have to lie and say she never knew Rita was an animagus, or she’ll have to admit that she did and admit that she’s been blackmailing and withholding justice. People are going to trust her less. And Rita’s going to worm her way out of this one for good this time. _And_ she might get the privacy laws _lessened_ , instead of amended like we’d hoped.”

Harry backed up until his legs hit the edge of a seat. He lowered down, his face falling into his hands.

“I just wanted it to stop.”

Ron sat in the seat beside Harry’s. He gave his shoulder a gruff pat.

“I know, mate. But you’ve got to stop doing that—that… _Harry Potter_ thing, y’know? Where you let things bottle up until you feel the need to storm in alone, thoughtlessly, to do things all by yourself. That ferrety little bastard was actually making progress with the law drafts. Even Hermione was impressed. And my sister, of course, is stubborn to an absolute _fault_ , so you know they were bound to succeed.”

“I just—”

“—wanted your family to be safe. I really do understand that. And I’m sure what Malfoy said earlier didn’t help.”

Harry made a noncommittal grunt.

“You _do_ take care of your family,” Ron told him, and Harry felt his heart swell. He hadn’t realized he needed to hear that until he heard it. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his aching shoulders.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Harry muttered, face still buried in his hands. “My son nearly died. My fame brought unfair judgement onto my wife and my kids. Lily hates me—she won’t even look at me—and James hates me for hurting Lily.”

“Yeah, well, Rose looked like she wanted to slap me when I told her she couldn’t come to the hospital yet. Hugo cried. We’ve all got to do things sometimes that make our kids hate us. We’ve just got to hope that they love us more at any given time than they hate us.”

Harry looked up miserably. “If Ginny had married somebody normal—if she’d had kids with somebody normal—”

“James, Albus, and Lily wouldn’t exist, she’d be miserable, you’d be miserable, and everybody in our family would be miserable because you two would spend every holiday making eyes at each other and moping.”

Harry didn’t exactly have anything to say to refute those things.

“I mean, she may be ‘ _your wife’_ , but I think I can say with reasonable certainty that my sister would much rather deal with Rita’s lies than, you know, not have her children.”

And he couldn’t exactly argue with that, either. Ron slapped his back.

“Cheer up. Albus is going to live. Hermione might kill you, but perhaps you’ll get to see Rita behind bars before you die. And Scorpius and Albus are _exceptionally_ cozy, aren’t they?” Ron grinned. Harry gave a reluctant smile back.

“They’re good for each other.”

“Let’s hope they’re being good _with_ each other…did you…you know. Give Albus ‘the talk’?”

Harry immediately grimaced. All other negative thoughts were pushed away as his embarrassment overtook him again.

“Oh, I tried. I certainly gave it my best effort. It was horrible.”

“The talk you gave or just the act of giving the talk?”

“Both. Mainly the talk itself. With James, it was so easy…he laughed hysterically through most of it…he was cracking sex jokes by the time it ended…but oh, Merlin. It was awful trying to talk to Albus about it. I was flying blind. Hermione gave me a book, you know, about how to address…”

Ron nodded. “Boys who prefer the flavor of other boys.”

“…Not the way I was going to word it, but yeah. Right. He looked like he was going to jump out of the window at any moment. He just kept repeating ‘okay’, ‘okay’, ‘okay’, after everything I said, clearly trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. I’m not sure he comprehended a word I said.” Harry hesitated. He leaned in. “And then, Draco asked me about it yesterday.”

Ron burst into laughter. “What?! Draco asked you about gay sex? He really is an unimaginative little—”

“No, he asked me about how my talk with Albus went. I think he wanted to compare notes. Said he sort of gave Scorpius a talk but realized he needed to redo it. Turns out he just handed him a few books and patted his hair.”

“Actually, that seems like a pretty effective talk for somebody like Scorpius…” Ron mulled.

“I told him our only hope is that Scorpius decides to share those books with Albus, because I really mucked that fatherly job up as well.”

“It’s okay. Hermione made me give Rose the talk with her, something about…co-parenting something-something, I dunno, some rubbish she reads in Muggle parenting books…anyway, I literally stared at the wall for the entire speech. Hermione kept stamping on my foot to get me to say my rehearsed parts. Nope. I think she broke my big toe. Worth it.”

“Well, I guess not everybody can find out the way that we did.”

“I suggested that method to Hermione. I said ‘let’s just drop her off at her elder cousins’ house for a weekend or so and she can figure out like Harry and I did, from piecing together crude joke after crude joke’. She didn’t go for it. And she also said that my elder brothers should’ve watched their tongues when we were in earshot.”

Harry snorted. He was feeling better enough to summon a package of biscuits. Ron cocked an eyebrow.

“The Potters are back on sugar?”

“The Potters are falling apart. I’ve been stress-eating sherbet lemons. Ginny’s been going through sugar quills quicker than the real things—which is saying something. I’ve been using sweets to buy my children’s affection. Oddly enough, James is the only one who hasn’t succumbed. He’s still eating the sugar-free options the house elves make for him.”

“Oddly sensible. Good for him,” Ron praised. He pulled five biscuits from the package the moment that Harry passed it to him. He crammed three into his mouth and spoke around it, crumbs raining from his mouth as he chewed. “Hermione and I gave up on that a long time ago. I told Ginny your family won.”

“The only victory that matters,” Harry teased. Ron grinned.

“So are you going to apologize to Hermione for being a prat?”

“I’ll apologize to Hermione for making her life difficult. But I won’t apologize for doing something about Rita Skeeter.”

“…Sometimes I get this urge to call you _Mr. Weasley_ , and it’s not because I secretly fancy us married.”

“Har, har—look who’s talking. I’ve noticed you’re _exceptionally_ in touch with your emotions, Mr. Granger.”

Ron smiled. “Yeah? Really? You think so?” A pause. “So, if you could just…mention that to Hermione. You know, just tell her I was really emotionally sensitive and compassionate, I’d really appreciate it.”

Harry snorted. “What’d you say to Hermione this time?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Just…it’d be great if you could tell her that.”

“Sure, Ron. I’ll help you get out of trouble.”

Ron sighed, relieved. “Thanks. I hate it when she’s cross with me.”

Harry glanced at his beat-up wristwatch.

“We should head back. The last of the kids should be arriving from school soon. I want to actually talk to Albus before they monopolize him.”

“Okay, but we’d better be careful…I heard Lockhart asking to go visit other wards to give autographs as we were passing by…”

They shared a horrified look.

* * *

 

Albus was still weak and pained, but he was all smiles that afternoon. Harry and Ginny remained constants at his bedside and Scorpius remained a constant in his bed. Draco hovered between the tea room and the corner of the ward, visibly uncomfortable but unwilling to make Scorpius leave. All of Albus’s cousins were crowded around the bed, listening with rapt attention as Lily and James told everybody the story of Albus’s ‘duel’. Albus was far too busy playing with the Pygmy Puffs resting on his chest (Scorpius had gone to Hogwarts to retrieve them, fearing they’d get lost or accidentally stepped on) to notice that his siblings were grossly inflating the story.

“And then Albus and James punched Halloran so hard in the face that he _shit his—_ ”

“Lily,” Harry sighed.

“He could’ve, Dad. You don’t know. They didn’t check his trousers before they shipped him to Azkaban.”

“Temporary hold,” Harry quickly said, as excited whispers broke out.

“That’s shit,” Fred scoffed. “He should stay there.”

“Everybody gets a trial, Fred,” Dominique said sharply.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. My opinion? He never should’ve been allowed out in society in the first place.”

This started a spirited debate amongst the Weasley children. Ginny pointed sternly at _her_ children.

“Listen here, you three,” she began firmly. James smiled sweetly (his knee-jerk reaction to Ginny’s sternness, having learned as a toddler that his mum could be slightly weakened by his cuteness), Albus frowned, and Lily crossed her arms. “I don’t _ever_ want to hear about you putting yourselves at risk because somebody’s called somebody else a slag again. That’s idiotic. Do you really think my pride is worth your injury?”

“Yes,” James, Lily, and Albus said in unison. Harry, torn between pride and amusement, chose to look at his lap and snort. Ginny shot him a vexed look.

“And do you think that _I_ think it was worth it? Considering everything that’s happened?” she pressed.

James frowned. Albus looked back down at the Pygmy Puffs (the yellow one was rolling up and down Albus’s chest so quickly that it almost fell onto the mattress a couple of times; the blue one was curled up right at the end of the yellow’s path to keep his little friend from falling). Lily bit her lip.

“Exactly,” Ginny said. She leaned back in the chair and let her head fall back against Harry’s arm. She stifled a yawn. “Let them call me names. As long as you lot are okay, I’m happy.”

Their children nodded, but James had clearly not learned his lesson. He’d do it again. Albus and Lily, too. But Harry couldn’t blame them; he’d done the same when Malfoy had insulted _his_ mother in his fifth year, and if he went back in time tomorrow, he’d do it again. There were some things worth risking everything for, and mothers were certainly one of them.

“Uncle Harry?” Louis asked. Harry turned and looked up at the seventh-year Ravenclaw. He looked hesitant.

“Yes?” Harry asked.

Louis came to stand beside Harry’s chair.

“We should talk about some things that have happened. At Hogwarts. While you’ve been gone.”

Roxanne, Rose, and Hugo fell silent, telling Harry they knew exactly what Louis was talking about. Harry shifted to face Louis.

“What do you mean?”

Louis exchanged a quick look with Roxanne. James and Lily were leaning further in, to make sure they didn’t miss anything.

“Well…Roxanne…sort of…confronted Halloran’s friends.”

“Yeah I did. I had to check them out, didn’t I? To make sure they weren’t going to mess with my family ever again.”

“Yes…right…but, Rox…you brought all your Gryffindor friends and snuck into the Slytherin dungeon…”

 _Oh, great_. Harry lowered his glasses and rubbed over his eyes. He sighed.

“Tell me you didn’t start a House war.”

“…If only I could, Uncle Harry,” Roxanne said. “In my defense…it was never supposed to be that. But Halloran’s friends stuck up for his actions. Then all the kids of ex-Death Eaters got involved. They started ranting about how it was _cruel_ and _insensitive_ for McGonagall to hire a ‘killer’ to teach them when, in their eyes, you’re apparently somehow responsible for the death of every Death Eater related to them, even if you weren’t the one who killed them in the first place. And there’s the fact that you locked up a good portion of their family members…”

“That’s rubbish,” Scorpius said. He sat up. Albus watched him intently, hanging on every word. “Their parents were wrong. They made a mistake. They’ve got to make peace with that.”

“Well, not all of them agree. Iset Goyle tried to talk sense into them and that went about as well as you can imagine. She’s in the Hospital Wing.”

Harry winced. “What was she thinking?”

“Probably that she didn’t want to be associated with idiocy like that. But anyway. This turned into…well, like you said, a House war. When we left, people were choosing sides, hexing each other in the corridors, sneaking into each other’s common rooms, using Weasley Wizard Wheezes products in ways they were certainly not manufactured for…” Roxanne trailed off, her lip curling up in disgust. Harry had no interest in probing further on that matter.

“It’s a good thing Albus has to stay here for a while. It’ll give things time to calm down,” Roxanne summarized. “But you, Uncle Harry…be prepared.”

“Thanks for the warning, Roxanne,” Harry told her.

“Unless you want to get a substitute, Dad,” Lily suggested.

“No. And you still have to do your essay. Matter of fact—start working on it now! You’ve got plenty of time.”

“No, Dad! My brother is critically ill!” Lily exclaimed. She fell down onto Albus’s bed and dramatically lay across his stomach without thinking. He cried out in pain. Ginny jumped to her feet and Scorpius flinched.

“Lily! Get up!” Ginny snapped.

“You can’t lay on him like that,” Scorpius told Lily gently. He grasped her arms and eased her up. “His insides are still mending. They look like a cheese grater was used on them.”

Harry’s stomach turned at the mental image. Scorpius had been one of the few who’d expressed interest in looking at some type of magical scan the Healers had done of Albus’s internal organs; he’d been extremely interested and asked question after question, remaining remarkably composed, even holding a conversation with Victoire about the state of Albus’s liver. Ginny, who was certainly no stranger to blood and gore, and had, in fact, once pushed her own bone back through her skin after a particularly nasty open fracture, had looked nauseated after viewing it, which was all Harry needed to see to decide that he didn’t need to view the images.

At the mention of their son’s damaged state, Ginny took Albus’s hand again, probably without even realizing it. Albus had gone from challenging James’s title as the Potter household ‘Mummy’s boy’ to merely tolerating his mum’s doting affection; it’d become a reliable way to tell how he was feeling. If he was clingy and anxious any time she left the room, he was in extreme pain. If he was scoffing every time she kissed his hair, he was feeling much better. Harry took advantage of it and used it to know when to ask Victoire to bring more pain potion, because Albus seemed determined to be ‘tough’ and never wanted to ask for it himself.

“That’s disgusting,” Lily grimaced.

“Mum said she’s getting that curse put on the list of Unforgivables,” Rose informed them all.

“It should be. He would’ve died if Aunt Hermione hadn’t thought up that method,” Lucy spoke up. “So it’s basically a killing curse.”

Harry glanced quickly at Albus. He didn’t look particularly upset by that news, but according to Ginny, he’d been hysterical when he first came to (during Harry’s screaming fit in the corridor). He’d gripped onto her in a fright, sobbing, and he kept mumbling something about the Great Lake, Harry’s parents and Sirius Black, and the uncle he never met. It’d shaken Ginny. She was one of the only people Harry had ever told about his King’s Cross experience, and because of that, she was certain that their son had died at some point, briefly, perhaps, but at some point, and that distinction was sure to haunt them both for months.

“What was it like?” Rose wondered, somehow thinking right along the same lines that Harry was. “Did you know you were going to die?”

Albus hesitated. He glanced at his mum. Then he glanced at Scorpius, which told Harry that Scorpius probably knew, too.

“No, how could I?” he lied. “I was unconscious.”

“Oh,” Rose said, disappointed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Albus glanced to the side and met Harry’s eyes. Harry nodded once, hoping to somehow communicate: _I know. I experienced it. It’s okay. You can come back all the way—I did_.

Albus smiled briefly. Harry grinned back, his heart lightening. _I love you_ , he wanted to say suddenly. _I love you more than my own life_. But he didn’t want to embarrass Albus. There would be time to talk to him. Time to let him know just how much he was loved. Harry doubted he’d ever be able to doubt that again, though, with how many kisses he’d received upon waking, how many tearful cries of _thank Merlin!,_ how many hugs that went on long enough to communicate words.

And then there was his son’s boyfriend. Who’d climbed onto Albus’s bed first thing and full-on snogged Albus in front of five healers, the entire Weasley clan, his own dad, _Albus’s_ parents, and a few onlooking strangers, clearly so overemotional in his relief that he wasn’t thinking clearly. Everybody had found it varying degrees of sweet and amusing and they’d all slowly trickled out of the hospital room to ‘let Albus rest’ (“So that’s what we’re calling that now?” James had quipped. Ginny lightly smacked his shoulder).

“Dad, don’t worry about the Death Eater spawn,” Lily spoke up. “I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

In Lily-speak: _I’m sorry, Dad. I love you_.

“Thanks, Lily. I feel much better now.”

In Harry-speak: _It’s okay, and I’m sorry, too. I love you, too._

They smiled at each other.

* * *

 

“Lily doesn’t hate me anymore,” Harry told Ginny. Ginny looked up from her journal. She was sitting beside him, her chair rotated so she was facing his side, her legs thrown casually over his lap.

“She never hated you, Harry. She just wanted to hex you for a bit there.”

“Well, okay. She doesn’t want to _hex me_ anymore, then.”

“Give it time,” Ginny said, idly flipping to the next page. Harry rolled his eyes, amused, but didn’t press that particular topic any further, because his daughter returned a moment later, a neon orange bottle of nail polish in hand.

“Aunt Audrey gave it to me! Who’s next?!”

Harry looked down at his bare feet. He wiggled his magenta toes. James held up his purple nails and swung his purple toes. Ginny shook her head to remind Lily that she’d already been done, too. Albus pulled his blankets back to showcase his pale pink toenails. Scorpius gave Lily a good-natured smile.

“I guess it’s mine,” he said.

Lily grinned. “This orange will look great with your skin tone, Scorpius!”

Without any further discussion on the matter, she hopped up onto the end of Albus’s hospital bed, grabbed Scorpius’s left foot, and got to work, chatting animatedly with the boys as she did. Ginny and Harry exchanged an amused look. Ginny turned back to her journal afterwards and Harry turned back to her. He rested his palm on her calf and smoothed it along her soft skin, eyes examining the downturned profile of her face, waiting...

She smiled. He rested his head against the back of his chair and grinned, too. She lowered her quill and looked fully at him a moment later.

“How’d you know I’ve been waking with headaches?” she asked abruptly.

Harry blinked. “Hmm?”

“When you were screaming at Rita—yes, Harry, I heard every word—you told her I’ve been waking with headaches. I didn’t mention it.”

Harry smiled sadly. He continued idly caressing her leg. “Well, clearly, I’ve discovered a long-neglected power for Legilimency.”

Ginny’s lips parted in a surprised (and sarcastic) _O_. She sat up straighter.

“Okay, what am I thinking _right now_?”

Harry leaned forward and peered intently into her eyes. He studied the periodic flecks of dark green hidden within the brown hue. “You’re thinking…‘I hope Harry actually starts coming home for dinner again so I don’t have to cook’.”

She leaned back and blinked, surprised.

“Wait, what? No. Try again.”

Harry laughed. “Merlin, was I _right_?!”

“…No. Just…try again.”

He peered intently into her eyes again.

“You’re thinking…I should’ve listened to Harry and taken the Flying Instructor position and quit at the _Daily Prophet_ …and we should’ve moved to Hogwarts…because then…I would never have to cook _ever again_ …”

“Ha! Wrong. I’d never think ‘I should’ve listened to Harry’.”

Harry smacked over his scar with mock regret. “Ah, damn, I knew I was messing up somewhere.”

She leaned in and lowered her voice.

“But, you know, I do think that sometimes. More often than not.”

“I do, too,” he whispered back.

Draco’s initial suggestion didn’t seem so unrealistic in the fallout from Albus’s near-death experience. Ginny reached up and held his face.

“And for the record, Harry,” she said, her eyes now peering into his like _she_ was attempting Legilimency. “I don’t think you were wrong for what you did.”

“Well, you wouldn’t. You tried to knock Rita’s teeth out,” Harry laughed.

She smiled. She dropped her hands from his face. “Still. I understand.”

He reached down and took her hands, weaving his fingers through hers. “I know you do.”

* * *

 

He and Ginny decided to stay at the hospital that night, making it their second night there. Ginny was planning on sleeping there every night until Albus was released, something Albus had only half-heartedly protested. It wasn’t difficult to conjure a camp bed. But it was difficult to get Scorpius and Albus apart.

“Why can’t he stay?” Albus asked them.

“He needs to get back to school.”

“No way! Not without me!” Albus argued fiercely. Scorpius was nodding along beside him. “Alone in the Slytherin dungeon with a whole load of angry ex-Death Eater’s kids when he’s known to walk around hand-in-hand with Harry Potter’s son? No way!”

“Dorm rooms have been temporarily given passwords.”

“Wow, great, that’s really helpful for, you know, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. But we’ve got about 99% of Hogwarts’ Death-Eater-offspring population in our House!”

“Draco wouldn’t send Scorpius back if—”

Albus interrupted his mum. “Please, I just want him to stay.”

“I _want_ to stay,” Scorpius countered.

“That’s not up to us. That’s up to the Healers and your dad, Scorpius,” Harry reminded him. “You can go Floo and ask him.”

Scorpius jumped up from Albus’s bed and hurried off towards the nearest Floo. James snorted from the corner.

“What?” Albus snapped.

“Nothing.”

“What was that noise about, then?”

James snorted again. “What noise?”

“ _That_ noise, you prat!”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking. You must be _really tired,_ Al. _So_ exhausted from your day of almost-dying…you must really want to…’rest’....”

Albus scowled. He threw one of his pillows across the room, smacking James square in the face.

“Nice shot,” Ginny appreciated, surprised.

“ _Mum_!” James complained.

“What? It was a nice shot—great aim, great throw, right in the face.”

Lily was snickering. Harry arched an eyebrow when she met his eyes and pointed back at her DADA book. She groaned and resumed writing her essay.

“James, don’t tease Al. Al, don’t hit James. Arg—I feel like I’ve just been transported back in time ten years with all this bickering.”

“Don’t even joke like that,” Harry said, alarmed. James and Al, at their height of arguing, aged seven and five respectively, could argue over _breathing_ (and had once).

“I’m only _saying_ …” James sang.

“You’ve said enough. Leave your brother alone. You act as if our entire family hasn’t had to see you and Nora snogging in every room since you two were fifteen.”

“Ha, ha,” Albus laughed immediately.

“And Al tormented me for it! So this is just payback, Mum, it’s only fair,” James said, his eyes widened with innocence.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ginny said, “save it for an unsuspecting and easily manipulated adult.”

“But I don’t know the next time I’ll _see_ Uncle Percy…”

This time, Harry was the one who laughed. Ginny’s lips twitched, but she managed to stifle it.

“James Sirius Potter! Lily, tell James what happens when he talks badly about my family.”

“Scourgify the mouth.”

“Right. That.”

“The _truth_ is an obscenity now, Mum? I thought this family had _values_ …”

Scorpius returned. His devastated face said it all. Albus groaned angrily.

“This is rubbish!”

“Cheer up, Al, there will be plenty of time to rest at—”

“ _James_!” Harry and Ginny chorused.

“Fine,” James sighed. He amused himself with picking at his toenail polish.

“Come on, you lot,” Harry said. He gently pushed Ginny’s legs from his lap and stood. “Let’s get you to Gran’s.”

“ _No_!”

“I’ll take them, Harry,” Ginny said quickly. Harry hesitated, met her eyes, and then slowly sat back down. “All right, you two, I mean it—no arguments, let’s go.”

Lily slammed her book shut and James heaved a sigh, but they followed Ginny from the room. Harry glanced at Al, but he and Scorpius looked seconds away from snogging again, so he slowly edged from the room so they could say their goodbyes. He wandered down to the bakery on the ground floor and mulled over what to buy for Al and Ginny. He was wrestling with the choice between steak and ale pie and chicken curry pasty when he felt a brief touch to his shoulder. He turned.

“Hermione,” he said dumbly.

“Hi,” she said flatly. She crossed her arms. “How’s Al?”

“A bit better. Still can’t hold anything down—he vomited his lunch—but we’re going to give it another go. Er…how did…you know.”

“Horrible, thanks. Half the Wizengamot wants my head.”

“Oh. That’s…oh.”

A silence settled over them.

“Sir? _Sir_? Harry Potter, sir? Did you want to order?”

Harry turned back to the woman at the till, distracted.

“Er, yeah, I’ll take…a steak and kidney pie, a chicken curry pasty, a chicken and thyme and…one of each type of dessert.”

The woman said nothing, but she’d arched her eyebrow. Harry paid and stepped to the side to wait. Hermione stepped with him.

“So you’re back on sugar, then?”

“Long story. Life’s been stressful. And I figure Al might at _least_ try and eat Lemon Meringue."

“Probably.”

Another silence. Harry sighed.

“Hermione—”

“Harry—”

They both stopped. And started again.

“I’m sorry,” they said at once.

They both blinked at each other, surprised.

“ _You’re_ sorry?” Harry demanded. “Hermione, I called you out in front of everybody. I never should’ve done that. I’m sorry. I talked to Ron, who is very emotionally mature lately, you know, and was really compassionate, and he explained everything. I didn’t mean to make your life difficult.”

“No. No, Harry, I’m sorry. You and Ginny tried to tell me. You both tried so many times. And I wouldn’t listen…I got too blinded by the politics. I let the politics take precedence over my family. And that’s something swore I would _never_ do.”

“You were just trying to do things for the greater good.”

“And who’s that sound like?” Hermione pointed out, looking vaguely troubled.

Harry shook his head. “Ron put it right. He told me I couldn’t see past my own family, and he’s right. I can’t. Whenever they're involved, I go a bit mad. I could make excuses for myself. I could say it’s because I never had a family before, etcetera etcetera, but the truth is I’m a hothead.”

“I already knew _that,_ Harry.”

Harry smiled. Hermione smiled back.

“I accept your apology,” Hermione finally said.

“I accept yours,” Harry shot back quickly, pleased that they’d reached this point without Hermione crying or sending birds flying at his face.

“Good. I’ll have you know we’ve arrested Rita Skeeter. For the time being, she won’t be saying anything about what happened to Albus, and most importantly: she won’t be able to harass him while he’s recovering. I’m sure she’ll find a way to get out of this. But at least she’s temporarily stopped.”

“Order eighty-six,” the woman behind the till called, bored. Harry looked around. He was literally the only person in the room. He moved forward and took the warm paper bag. He gestured towards the lift; Hermione nodded and walked with him.

“What do you think’s going to happen?”

“We’ll have a few weeks Skeeter-free. And then she’ll start attacking the Ministry for misusing its power to impede free speech. That’s what I was worried about.”

“Yeah, Ron said. He said you were worried that if she managed to find out about the new laws before they were enacted, she’d find a way to stop them.”

Hermione looked at Harry, surprised.

“Ron said that? I didn’t think he was even listening when I was talking about that.”

“He was listening. He explained everything to me. Really gave me hell for what I did, actually. I haven’t seen him that angry in ages…”

Hermione didn’t say anything in response, but she was grinning softly the entire ride up to Albus’s ward. Harry was certain that Ron was going to have a better night than he was.

* * *

 

“Don’t tell your mum that I let you eat nearly an entire lemon meringue pie,” Harry said.

Albus looked up. He traced an X over his heart.

“Promise,” he grinned.

“If she asks, you ate the steak and kidney pie.”

“Right. We also won’t mention that you ate that one _and_ the chicken curry.”

“Right. You’re catching on, son.”

Albus laughed. Harry grinned back. He perched on the edge of Albus’s bed once Albus was done with his pie and took the container away. He set it in the paper bag on the floor and then looked back at his son. He realized that this was probably the only time he’d have to speak alone with Albus for a while, as he had to go back to his classes tomorrow. There were so many things Harry needed to say. He wasn’t sure where to start.

“I think I died, Dad.”

Albus began for him. Harry swallowed the pain those words caused and forced himself to focus on the facts: Al was alive, he’d just polished off an entire lemon meringue pie, he was breathing, he was looking at Harry, he was _here_. Not dead. A couple of deep breaths and Harry was ready to address the matter.

“Victoire finally admitted that you did. Just for a minute or so. She didn’t want to tell us…I understand why.”

Albus was staring intently at Harry, his eyes churning with something Harry couldn’t name.

“Dad, I saw your parents. And Sirius. And Uncle Fred. Teddy’s dad.” A pause. “I saw _Dumbledore_.”

Harry smiled. “Me too. When I died, I mean. I saw Dumbledore.”

Albus sat up with a brief grimace of pain.

“Were you in the Great Lake, too?”

“No—King’s Cross. I wonder why you were in the lake?”

“I wonder why you were in King’s Cross?”

Harry laughed. “Fair enough. So…what did they say?”

“Who?”

“Everybody.”

Albus grinned suddenly. “Well. Sirius and Uncle Fred made fun of my middle name.”

Harry felt his heart jolt. He wasn’t sure that was a detail Albus’s mind could’ve fabricated. He’d yet to define his own post-death experience—Hermione told him it was a hallucination—but he always felt it’d been deeper than that. Not a full-on glimpse into an afterlife, but _something_. If Albus told anybody but his parents and Scorpius, they might point out that his brain was literally bleeding, which was a fair point. But Harry was going to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Harry laughed. “Hope they weren’t too hard on you.”

“Nah—they were hard on you and Mum. Uncle Fred said I'm named after an ear murderer?"

Harry pursed his lips against the laughter threatening to spill out. 

“Er...hmm. Not sure what he was going on about..."

Albus hesitated. “And your parents. They loved me. I don’t remember much. But I remember that. I felt so loved and safe.”

Harry’s throat narrowed. He looked away from Albus’s eyes—his eyes, Lily Evans’s eyes—until he’d gotten a hold of himself.

“Of course they did. How could they not?”

Albus picked at the hospital blanket. “Teddy’s dad wasn’t sure about Teddy’s idea to name the baby Remus. He said ‘Dora’ was having a fit over the idea of naming it after her.”

Harry laughed, elated. “Al, you should tell Teddy about this when you’re ready. He’d believe you.”

“He said other stuff. I was going to tell Teddy.”

“Good,” Harry smiled.

He didn’t want to pry. He could sense that whatever Dumbledore had said had been the most impactful. Albus looked up.

“Dumbledore said…”

He stopped. He picked at a loose thread.

“You can tell me,” Harry said gently. “I’ll believe you.”

“I know, it’s just…embarrassing. Especially if it turns out that I was just hallucinating.”

“Embarrassing?” Harry said, puzzled.

“Yeah. He said…well. He said I made him proud to be called Albus.”

Albus looked genuinely unconvinced and embarrassed. He’d never reminded Harry so much of himself. He leaned across and pulled Albus into his arms without even thinking about it. All he knew was that he loved his son.

“I love you, Al,” he finally said. After a day of thinking those words over and over again like a prayer, it was such a relief to voice them. “And Dumbledore’s right.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Albus shot back automatically, embarrassed.

Harry didn’t let go.

“Al, I mean it. When I thought that…when it looked like you would…” he couldn’t even finish the words. “I love you more than my own life. I always have. I always will.”

“Merlin, Dad, don’t make me cry,” Albus complained.

“ _I’m_ going to cry, so it’s okay,” Harry said thickly. “We can be open for once, right? No one else is here. For once—let’s not do our Potter-men thing.”

“I guess,” Albus said. His voice was wavering. “Dad. In the Hospital Wing…when I kept telling you I was sorry…” Harry leaned back. Albus was blinking rapidly against forming tears. “All I could think about was the fact that I was going to die without properly apologizing for the things I said last year. I was so frightened. Not because I was dying, but because I thought I might die before I could tell you that…I _don’t_ wish you weren’t my dad. That wasn’t true. And it isn’t true. Because I love you. And—” he sniffed. He rubbed his face and pressed on. “And you’ve always given me everything and I can see that now. I know you always tried with every bit of you. And not many people can say that about their dads, you know? I couldn’t see that before.”

Harry pulled his glasses off and set them to the side. He rubbed at his burning eyes, overcome once more with more emotion than he was equipped to deal with. He slowly put his glasses back in place. 

“Al, I know,” he reassured Albus. “And you know I never meant what I said, right? Not for a second. Not ever.”

“I know. We both spoke too quickly.”

“That’s the truth,” Harry laughed. Albus chuckled along. Once it gradually trailed off, Harry observed his son. “So how are you handling it? The dying thing?”

“Well, I got to eat an entire pie and I don’t have to do my Potions essay, so all in all, pretty all right. Though I wish it didn’t hurt so much right now.”

Harry frowned. “More pain potion?”

For once, Albus didn’t refuse. “Yeah. Before bed. And maybe a Sleeping Draught? In case it wears off? The pain’s been waking me. Scorpius said I was crying in my sleep during one nap today.”

Harry instinctively reached forward and brushed Albus’s hair back, like his comfort could somehow make all his son’s pain go away. He wished it were that simple. Albus smiled at him, and all at once, Harry knew he would have to talk to him about things now. This was the only chance. So Harry took a deep breath and took advantage of Albus’s mention of Scorpius.

“Hey, Al?”

“Dad?”

“Do you remember the…talk we had? A few weeks ago?”

Albus grimaced. “Unfortunately. Can’t we pretend it never happened?”

“I know it’s awkward but…I did a really terrible job…and, well, this is really important to get right…and I see how close you and Scorpius are now…”

“Dad, I literally died today.”

“I know, just…really quickly. We’ll talk about it really quickly. Okay?”

Albus looked miserable, but he nodded once, his cheeks already burning bright red.

“Okay. Just…don’t prolong my misery.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Harry took a deep breath. “So. Well. What did you actually…comprehend during our last talk?”

“Er…” Albus hesitated. “To be honest…you said: ‘it’s time we had the talk’…and I spent the rest of the conversation thinking _please end this, please end this, please end this_.”

“Right. I expected as much.” Harry hesitated. “Okay, so, I guess let’s start with the basics and go on from there. Let’s pretend this is class. Just another lecture.”

“Oh, Merlin…”

“So basically…you know, there’s…Scorpius didn’t happen to show you his books, did he?”

“Huh? What books?”

“Damn.” 

* * *

 

Ginny returned right as Harry was lecturing on all the spells and potions related to sex and contraception. She stopped in the doorway. She stared at the blackboard Harry had conjured. Her eyes scanned all the incantations and ingredients he’d scrawled out.

“Harry,” she said finally, exasperated. “When I said you might want to give the talk another go, I didn’t mean in St. Mungo’s after our poor son’s been through hell. Are you okay, Al?”

“Yeah,” Albus told her weakly. “Just feeling a bit nauseated…”

“Harry!” Ginny reproached.

“What? I’m doing a decent job!” Harry defended. “We’ve even laughed a few times!”

“Yeah, it’s not his talk, honest, Mum…I just feel ill…” Albus admitted. He didn’t dare admit his dad had let him eat an entire pie, but it didn’t matter. A few moments later, he vomited all over his blanket. Ginny rushed over to him, patting his back, wiping his face with her sleeve. And then she paused.

“What the hell— _Harry!_ ”

“What?!”

“Why does it look like our son just vomited an entire lemon meringue pie?”

Harry gaped at her in disbelief. He peeked at the vomit but grew too nauseated himself to look very closely. “How on _earth_ can you tell what he’s eaten from his _vomit_? That’s creepy, Gin.”

“A trick important to learn when your first born child decides rocks look tasty in his toddler phase and decides to sneak enough sweets in the dead of night to make himself vomit at every _other_ phase. Albus, did you eat an entire pie?”

“Ugh…” he groaned. He looked liable to faint; vomiting had taken the last of his energy. “Don’t say ‘pie’ ever again, please, Mum…”

Ginny was glaring hotly at Harry as she quickly cleaned Albus’s bed up. Harry stared stubbornly back. A Healer helped Albus to the adjoining bathroom—Scourgify did a fine job with most small jobs, but being covered in vomit warranted bathing—and Ginny turned to Harry.

“He was so excited! He ate the entire thing!” Harry defended, before she could get on his case.

“You let our son, who actually died today, whose insides were shredded by Dark Magic, who couldn’t even keep broth down, eat an _entire pie_?!”

“…Truly, Gin, all those sound like reasons one should be allowed to eat an entire pie to me.”

“Unbelievable! The poor kid’s only just stopped vomiting up blood!”

“He vomited up the broth he had earlier, let’s not pretend this is solely the lemon meringue’s fault.”

Ginny collapsed back into her chair. She rubbed her face wearily.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“How about: ‘Did you bring me food, Harry’?”

She looked up. “Did you?”

“Chicken and thyme.”

“Oh,” she said, perking up. “From downstairs?”

“Yeah. It’s actually really good.”

He pulled hers from the bag, reheated it with a jab of his wand, and passed it to her. She hesitated before she dug in.

“I’m still _incredibly_ against you letting our ill children eat entire desserts.”

“Okay. Sorry. Noted. Won’t do it again.”

“Okay.” She took a bite. “Mmm, yeah—this is good, thanks.”

He smiled. He decided voicing all of the quick, affectionate thoughts rushing through his mind couldn't hurt. 

“Hey,” he said. She glanced up. “I love you.”

She set her fork down. She appraised him carefully.

“I love you, too. More than anything. Are you all right?”

“Never better,” he admitted. “I feel like a good dad. Like a good husband.”

“You _are_ a good dad and a good husband.” She paused. “In spite of the whole lemon meringue thing.”

He rolled his eyes at her. He shifted to face her and continued.

“I didn’t think so earlier today or last night.”

“Who made you feel like you weren’t? Give me names and addresses.”

Harry laughed. “Well, unless you want to beat up my subconscious—”

“Believe me: I’ve been tempted.”

 “—I just worry from time to time. Because it’s the most important thing to me.”

She shoved her fork into his line of vision. Harry leaned in and accepted the bite. He chewed, surprised to find it _was_ really tasty.

“Mmm, that _is_ good,” he agreed.

“The best,” she appreciated. “So you don’t need to worry. If you were a pie—you’d be this pie. I wanted you to actually taste it before I said that because it doesn’t look that well-crafted, and I didn’t want you to think I was calling you ugly.”

Harry laughed. “I suppose I’m just glad I’m not the vomited-up lemon meringue.”

Albus returned in a fresh hospital gown. He was too weak to walk on his own; the Healer was half-carrying him back to bed. Harry immediately felt the reality of his poor choices hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he told Albus, the moment he was settled back in bed. “Mum’s right. Pie was a bad idea.”

“No, it was good,” Albus told him weakly. “I would’ve vomited anything I ate. Better to enjoy an entire pie and vomit it than choke down boring broth and vomit it. At least I got _some_ enjoyment out the experience.”

“When will he be able to hold food down?” Ginny asked the Healer. “He’s got to be starving.”

“I’m not, Mum,” Albus reassured her. “I just hurt all over. That’s all.”

Harry’s heart ached again. Ginny set her pie to the side, her appetite seemingly gone. She perched on the edge of Albus’s bed and reached up to brush his damp hair back from his face. When he leaned automatically into her touch, Harry knew he was suffering again.

“Pain potion and Sleeping Draught, I think,” he requested softly. The Healer nodded.

“I’ll get those. And, Mrs. Potter—we can’t say for certain. Nobody’s ever survived this curse before. We’re all learning as we go. But we’ve got five Healers working together on this; I promise we’ll do all we can.”

* * *

 

Albus woke them sobbing around four that morning, despite his heavy pain potion and his Sleeping Draught. It was such a broken, pleading sound that it reverted Harry to past habits; he jumped upright, wand held out, incantations on his lips, before he realized what was hurting Albus wasn’t anything he could fight.

Ginny climbed into his bed with him, and then Harry did, too. He seemed impossibly young—too young to be going through this, too young to feel pain like this. They stayed close to him, Harry patting his back, Ginny murmuring gentle reassurances, her hand stroking his hair back from his clammy face. Neither of them could imagine what Albus was going through. Nobody else in the world could understand what he was going through. Nobody else had ever lived to explain what this felt like.

“What did they do with him?” Albus asked them. They’d requested heavy sedation after an hour of Albus writhing and crying in pain; they were waiting on the Healer to return with the potion. “Carrow. Do we know—” Albus whimpered in pain; he drew his knees up to his chest and continued shakily. “—anything else?”

“He’s at Azkaban until his trial. His family wanted a brief suspension from school as punishment, but Hermione and McGonagall insisted his mental state be evaluated to see if he can be tried for attempted murder. And your aunt’s getting that nasty curse classified as an Unforgivable,” Harry said.

“Did he know that it did this? Did he know what it would do?”

Ginny and Harry met eyes in the dim light.

“I don’t know,” Harry evaded. “I would like to hope that he didn’t. But…”

“His parents used something similar to this on us my sixth year, but obviously less intense. They bragged about it all the time—called it a family heirloom. I’m certain that Carrow would’ve told his son all about his curses when he taught them to him,” Ginny said sourly.

“What if he taught other people?” Albus asked. “What if his friends use this on Scorpius or Lily or James or Rose or Hugo or—” he broke off with another whimper. Ginny looked close to tears and Harry was nearing there, too.

“Where’s that Healer?” she demanded. She kissed Albus’s hair and rose. “I’m going to find him. It’s taking him too long. I’ll be back, Al, and the pain will stop soon.”

“Don’t go,” Albus pleaded, soft and trembling. “Mum, don’t go.”

Harry went to rise. “I’ll get him.”

“No! Don’t go,” Albus repeated. He began crying even harder. Harry realized, after a moment, that he sounded _frightened_ more than pained now. He wondered if Albus thought he might die again. He wondered if he was terrified he’d die alone.

“Okay, all right. We’ll stay,” Harry hurriedly said, concerned. He lay back down. Ginny’s cheeks shone in the soft light coming from the dimmed candles above them. Harry hadn’t realized she’d been crying until then.

Thankfully, the Healer appeared soon after that. He quickly administered the potion. They all watched as Albus gradually slipped off into a deep, silent sleep. Harry sagged against the pillow, relieved. Ginny avoided the Healer’s eyes and wiped at her face.

“I’ve spoken with the others,” the Healer whispered. “We want to do another procedure tomorrow with the dittany. We think he’ll heal on his own, but we’re concerned about how long it might take. We don’t know if he’s got the strength to go through this degree of pain for months—especially if he can’t even eat.”

“Anything that will help,” Harry said. “Anything to make it better.”

He wished he could stay there all day. He was considering telling McGonagall to find somebody to cover his classes again, but he wanted to figure out how dangerous things were getting at Hogwarts. He never thought he’d say it—but if there was a chance of this happening to James or Lily—he was fully prepared to pull them from school until things were better. He wouldn’t risk his children ever again.

“What time?” Harry asked.

“Early. In a couple of hours, at most.”

At least he’d be able to make sure Albus got out of the procedure safely before he had to teach.

* * *

 

“Careful…careful…ha, ha! _Nice_!” Harry cried. He extended his hand; Scorpius met it in a high-five, beaming. Their card house remained stationary—an impressive feat considering they were playing with Exploding Snap cards.

Draco and Ginny weren’t quite as thrilled. Their card house was a smoldering ruin.

“Cheaters,” Ginny muttered.

Harry poked her side. “What was that?”

“ _Cheaters_ —should I enunciate better?”

“Maybe, yeah, when you mumble like that I just can’t be certain what you’re accusing me of.”

She poked his side right back. They fell into strained laughter.

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter?”

Harry immediately stood. Ginny did, too. They turned towards the Healer and waited.

“Everything went really well, as expected. You can come back to see him.”

A shared breath of relief traveled throughout the ward. Harry gestured for Scorpius to follow him.

“C’mon, you too, Scorpius. You and I have to get to Hogwarts in time for class.”

Harry and Scorpius entered the procedure room first. Albus was barely conscious, but he managed to beam soppily at Scorpius.

“Scorp,” he said, his voice faraway and a bit dreamy. He was clearly still woozy from the sedation. He could hardly keep his eyelids up. “Scorpy.”

Scorpius grinned wickedly. Harry could only imagine the good-natured teasing Albus was going to get for that later.

“Al, Aly,” Scorpius cooed right back, teasing. Albus kept on beaming.

“I thought you…went to…Hogs?”

“Hogwarts?” Scorpius supplied, biting back his laughter. “No—I stayed home last night. I’m going back with your dad.” He paused. “I wish you were better. Class is going to be horrible without you.”

“S’okay…shh…” Albus’s eyelids drifted shut. “S’fine…take King…”

“To class? Take our Pygmy Puffs to class?” Scorpius asked, puzzled.

“I think he’s still a bit out of it, Scorpius,” Ginny explained gently. She turned to Harry. “Will McGonagall let you bring Scorpius, James, and Lily back with you after classes?”

“I’m sure she will,” Harry said. He nodded at Scorpius. Scorpius beamed, relieved.

“Albus, I’ll bring you your homework, don’t worry.”

Yeah—Albus was not all there.

“Okay…thanks…”

Scorpius shook his head fondly. “I doubt he even remembers I came by later.”

“I’ll tell him,” Ginny reassured him. “You boys should go; you don’t want to be late.”

Harry had Lily’s class first again (an occurrence on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday). He _certainly_ didn’t want to be late for that one.

* * *

 

Lily entered the classroom flanked by her typical group. Harry was privately relieved; he hoped she wouldn’t stray off alone ever again.

“Hi, Dad,” she greeted. She hurried over and sat atop his desk. She reached for a sherbet lemon in the dish on his desk; Harry lightly batted her hand away. “How’s Al?”

“Good. He had another procedure this morning. It went well.”

Lily furrowed her brow. Harry spotted her hand trying to sneak back into the sweets dish. He shot her an exasperated look and batted her hand away _again_.

“Another procedure? The blood one? Where they take all his blood out and put it back in? Why again? It seems risky?”

Harry hesitated. He didn’t want anybody to know how much pain Albus was in, especially not Lily. “Just to help him.”

“Oh,” Lily said. She blinked behind her glasses. They had multiple fingerprint smudges on the lenses, enough that Harry felt annoyed _for her_. He pulled them off and grabbed his own cleaning cloth from the desk. She swung her legs as he quickly cleaned them and placed them back in place. “Wow—yeah, things are a lot clearer now, aren’t they?”

“Cleaning: the Muggle Magic.”

“So did it? Help him, I mean?”

“I really hope so. I left just after he woke. We’ll go see him after fifth period.” Harry patted her hand. “Go to your seat now, please.”

“Can’t I sit up here—”

“Absolutely not.”

“ _Fine_.”

Lily stamped her way to her seat in the front row. Emi Crescent mumbled something to her that started a long, intense conversation, one that Harry _tried_ to ignore, but it became obvious to everybody in the classroom that Lily wasn’t listening to a word of Harry’s lecture.

“Lily Potter.”

Lily looked up.

“Yeah?”

“Finish your conversation _after_ my class.”

“But I won’t be able to remember what I was going to say.”

Her friends laughed loudly. Harry resisted the urge to glare at his daughter.

“That’s unfortunate. Shall I get you a Remembrall for Christmas?”

The class succumbed to snickers again. Lily shrugged.

“If you’d like to, Dad. Sorry. Carry on your lecture. Werewolves, was it?”

She leaned back in her seat, and without the briefest shift in her expression, she popped a sherbet lemon into her mouth. Harry openly gaped. When the hell had she gotten that? He hadn’t seen her snag one! _Mental note_ , he thought, _tell Ginny our daughter is a little thieving tyrant._

“Lily, kindly spit the sweet out.”

Lily pointed at her desk, an innocently curious expression in place. “Here?”

“No,” Harry drew out, trying with all his might to remain patient.

Lily pointed at the floor. Her friends were in stitches. “Here?”

“ _No_. In the _bin_ , Lily.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you just say that?” Lily asked. She rose and crossed over to the bin. She spat the sweet in it, though Harry had a suspicion she had more tucked away. She sat back down in her seat.

“As I was saying. Werewolves suffer a social stigma nearly as debilitating as the affliction itself…if you look to the board…”

“Lily’s Dad?”

Harry looked to Quinton Bell.

“Professor Potter,” he corrected.

“Professor Potter, will you tell us what Halloran Carrow did to Lily’s brother?”

“Albus Potter.”

“Professor Potter, will you tell us what Halloran Carrow did to Albus Potter?”

Everybody was quiet. Gryffindors and Ravenclaws alike were observing Harry intently, waiting with bated breath. Harry hesitated.

“Carrow used an extremely dark curse on him. It was created by the Carrow family and, as far as we understand, has been used only sparingly throughout history.”

“But surely it’s been written down somewhere; surely you’ve seen it before while battling Voldemort…” 

Harry turned to the third year Gryffindor girl. Ophelia Rosamund, he thought. He hoped.

“Rosamund…it is Ophelia Rosamund, right?”

She nodded. Harry smiled, relieved. He was learning names quicker than he thought he would.

“Great. Well, the thing is…it’s only been used during really bloody battles. And nobody has survived it. When people find the victims drenched in blood, they just assume another curse or brutal method killed them. So prior to this, I _had_ seen it, but I didn’t know that I had. Because I’d only seen the effects on corpses—and any number of things…any combination of any number of things…could’ve caused that level of bleeding.”

Lily was sitting lower in her seat, her typical confident, cheery air damped somewhat. Evandrus Davies slid his chair over beside hers and threw an arm around her shoulders. Lily reached up and pulled it off. Davies cheerfully shook that rejection off and patted her arm instead.

“But…sorry, Lily’s Dad, forgive me, but—”

Harry interrupted the Gryffindor boy, exasperated.

“Professor Potter,” he corrected. He was about to give up on having a proper title outside of ‘Lily’s Dad’. It was proving to be pointless.

“Sure, if you like. My question is—how did they save Albus? I mean…he is okay, right?”

He looked panicked for a moment. Harry quickly nodded.

“Yeah, he’s fine…Cantwell. Leonard?” _Damn._

“Leo Cresswell.”

“Right. If you like,” Harry shot back, smoothing over his ineptitude. “They found a way to save him.”

“How bad was it?” A Ravenclaw asked, keen eyes locked on Harry’s.

Harry swallowed roughly. His mind flashed quickly. He looked down and played with his wedding band, avoiding his students’ eyes until he worked through it. “Bad. Very bad. And I don’t want to talk about it. If Albus wants to once he’s back, that’s one thing, but for the time being, I’d like to focus on werewolves.”

“What’d they do with Carrow?” somebody asked.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, what did they do?”

“I’ll bet they _killed_ him…”

“They should have! I bet _Lily’s Dad_ killed him! Shot his own Killing Curse back at him, Voldemort style!”

“ _Yeah_!”

“Way to _go_ , Lily’s Dad!” another boy cheered.

“Wait, no, I didn’t—”

“You should’ve insulted _his_ mum right before you did it, too,” a Ravenclaw girl snickered. “Taste of his own potion!”

“Haha, nice one, Mal!”

“Or you could keep him in the dungeon you have at your house, Lily’s Dad…”

“They have a dungeon?”

“Yeah, of course. That’s where all the really bad Death Eaters go. They don’t stay at Azkaban, it’s not secure enough.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Ann…Lily’s Dad, is that true?”

“ _SHUT UP_!” Lily shrieked suddenly.

Her classmates fell silent immediately. A few people jumped. A Ravenclaw boy muttered something nasty; Aster Boot replied with a rude hand gesture that Harry only allowed because it was in defense of his daughter.

“We don’t have a dungeon. My dad didn’t kill Carrow,” Lily snapped. She was looking at her classmates with squinted eyes like she’d never before realized how annoying they were.  

Harry was slightly relieved.

“Right. She’s right. No dungeon, no death.”

Morbid disappointment swept over the classroom.

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“He tried to kill your son, sir…”

“I would’ve avada’d him the instant he said that about _my_ mum…”

“Right,” Lily said, rising from her desk. She turned; her long hair smacked Evandrus in the face. He didn’t look too upset about it. “Do we have to do this again? Shut up! My dad’s trying to _talk_ , Merlin, have some respect!”

Harry halfheartedly mimed for Lily to sit back down. He could’ve addressed Lily’s hypocrisy, but he didn’t think that would help guide the class back to the real topic. He set out to quickly answer their questions instead.

“Carrow is in Azkaban awaiting his trial. The curse he used is being added to the list of Unforgivable Curses as we speak.”

“Are we going to learn about the Unforgivable Curses?”

“Yeah! Will we have people here to speak about the effects of them?”

“What are the Unforgivable Curses?” somebody else hissed, confused.

“The Unforgivable Curses are a classification of Dark Magic that’s especially vile; they are punishable by life imprisonment. We’ll cover more of the history and specifications much later in the year. As for people coming to speak about them—I’ve experienced all three, so if you’ve got specific questions when it comes to that section—” Harry was interrupted.

“What about the fourth? Aren’t they adding this new curse into the list? Will Lily’s brother come to talk about that one, considering he’s the only one who’s survived it?”

A strange sinking sensation in Harry’s heart. For a moment, he was in his fourth year, and the Moody impersonator was saying: “ _Not nice. Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me.”_

He was silent for far too long. The full implications of what had been done to his son set in.

“Lily’s Dad?” Leo Cresswell pressed, concerned.

“Sorry. Erm.” Harry blinked a few times. He turned his back on the class and pointlessly rifled through some parchment on his desk. “Perhaps. I don’t know. It was rather…traumatizing. I don’t know if he’ll want to speak. But we will learn about it.”

Harry turned back around. His eyes were beginning to burn. He automatically glanced at Lily. She offered him a sweet, reassuring smile and then held her hand out, unfurling her fingers.

“Sherbet lemon, Dad?” she offered innocently.

Harry looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

* * *

 

Albus and Scorpius’s class followed after Lily’s. It was difficult to see Albus’s empty chair. Going by Scorpius’s mopey attitude, he agreed. And like his first period, everybody wanted to know about Albus.

“He’s recovering, slowly but steadily,” Harry told everybody. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

He was mindful of the Slytherins present. All the other professors had said Albus’s year was the only one without dodgy students, but Harry still wasn’t sold on the Saul Montague kid. As if he’d sensed Harry’s suspicions, he spoke next.

“What happened to Hal?”

Something in Saul’s tone rubbed Harry the wrong way. Scorpius bristled, too. He turned in his chair and stared incredulously at his dorm mate.

“Carrow’s lucky he’s alive,” Harry snapped, before he thought about it. “He’s in Azkaban.”

Saul had slept in the same room as Albus for years, and he had the _nerve_ to ask how _Carrow_ was doing? Harry was seething.

“I’ve heard about this rubbish between Gryffindor and Slytherin,” he began, without thinking it through.

The students exchanged surprised looks. Harry pressed on.

“Anybody who has a problem being taught by me because of what I did in the Second Wizarding War probably thinks Voldemort shouldn’t have been defeated. And somebody who thinks Voldemort shouldn’t have been defeated is dangerous. That’s all I’m saying on the matter.”

“It’s not that black-and-white, though,” Saul argued, scoffing. “Cyprus Avery’s—”

“Cyprus Avery never met his father because his father chose to back a murdering dictator and tortured and killed hundreds—maybe even thousands.” Harry peered around the class. “Who here feels like the deaths of Death Eaters weren’t justified? Who feels like what the Order of the Phoenix did was wrong?”

Saul raised his hand.

“Put your damn hand down; are you out of your mind?” Mr. Sig whispered, reaching up to try and wrestle Saul’s hand from the air. Saul tensed his muscles and refused. Another one of Al’s dorm mates—Omri, perhaps? Biglaw? Something?—nudged Mr. Sig and shook his head, as if Saul were a lost cause. Mr. Sig stopped trying to pull Saul’s hand down, but he slid his chair two feet away from Saul.

Emboldened by Saul, two Slytherin girls did as well. Iset—her face still bruised—shook her head in disgust.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Harry said, his pulse racing. “You’re dismissed.”

They didn’t move.

“Sir?”

“You’re dismissed. You may go for the day. I’m not even going to bother trying to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts to those who sympathize with the Dark Arts themselves.”

“What about our essays?”

“Leave them on my desk. I’ll consider marking them. Bye.”

Another moment of hesitation. Nobody rose.

“You can’t kick us out for an opinion.”

“Your opinion is wrong!” Scorpius exploded, suddenly and much to his classmates’ surprise. Harry wondered if the stress from Albus’s injury had made Scorpius much more reactive, too. “It’s a load of rubbish! My dad was a Death Eater! My dad was, and I know that he was wrong, and so does he! How could you say that, Saul, how could you say that what Hal did was okay?!”

“Save us the drama, Malfoy. We all know you only care so much because you’re getting off with Potter.”

“Oi! Low blow!” Mr. Sig complained. Another fifth-year Slytherin boy—whose name Harry couldn’t even guess—stood up, enraged.

“Fuck off, Saul!” he scolded.

“Hey,” Harry quickly said, worried this would escalate quickly. “Language! If I hear it again, I’ll take points!”

The Slytherin boy reluctantly sat. There was now a bubble of free space around Saul as everybody migrated steadily away from him. When Harry glanced to Scorpius, he looked more surprised by the boys defending him than the nasty words Saul had spewed.

“He’s not just saying that,” Iset suddenly said, backing Scorpius from the other side of the room. Everybody spun around to look at her, even more shocked to hear _her_ voice added to the conflict. “Scorpius is right. My dad was a Death Eater. Mine is _still_ awful. He still believes in the lies Voldemort said. And if he was killed tomorrow because he was trying to hurt other people, I’d feel sad, because no matter what, he’s my dad—but I wouldn’t blame the person who killed him. I’d blame my _dad_ because he was trying to hurt others.”

Saul snorted. “It’s easy to think that when you haven’t got two brain cells to rub together—”

“It’s easy to think things aren’t black-and-white when you’ve got no conscience, no morals, no compassion!” Scorpius snapped back. “Saves you from having to feel bad about your evil opinions!”

Iset looked surprised to find herself being defended by Scorpius. Harry had noticed that she tended to only speak with other Hufflepuffs. 

“What you’re saying perpetuates all the things everybody fought to stop,” Iset added, though her voice was feebler now. “Professor Potter especially. After all he did for all of us, it’s rude, disrespectful, and cruel for you to say these things. And he’s right to kick you out. Why should he teach you anything when you’ve proven you’re just going to turn around and do the same awful things he fought to stop once you leave school? Why should he contribute to that?”

Harry felt touched. He wasn’t sure what to say. Saul flushed.

“I wasn’t saying that _I_ agree with the Death Eaters, you idiotic—”

“You keep calling Iset stupid, but you can’t seem to think of a counter-argument that doesn’t involve a personal attack on her, which seems to suggest that _you_ aren’t clever enough to come up with a real response,” Scorpius bit.

Harry was getting nervous. He didn’t want anybody to get hurt, but he especially didn’t want Scorpius to. He edged closer to Scorpius’s desk just in case.

“I was _only saying that people have a right to be upset because their family members died_!” Saul exploded.

“Of course they do,” Harry quickly said. “That’s human nature. But attacking my son for their parents’ misdeeds is unacceptable. That is not a right. I will not stand for it, and anybody who thinks it’s justified has no place in our society. Period.”

“He was aiming for you, though,” Saul pointed out slyly.

A hush settled over the classroom.

“How did you know that?” Harry demanded. As far as he knew, Neville, Ginny, his children, Scorpius, and McGonagall were the only ones who knew that. And nobody on that list would’ve told. “When did you talk to Hal? He’s been custody since…”

Harry trailed off. Something infinitely worse occurred to him. He crossed over to Saul’s desk so quickly that the boy flinched back, alarmed.

“He was planning this. Was Carrow planning this?”

Saul avoided Harry’s eyes. That told Harry all he needed to know. Angry, frustrated with himself for missing this, and suddenly feeling like he wanted to homeschool his kids—Harry pointed towards the door again.

“Goodbye,” he repeated pointedly. After a moment, Saul and one of the Slytherin girls rose. The third remained seated, eyes wide.

“I’ve changed my mind. I didn’t understand your previous question.”

“So be it.” Harry flicked his wand towards the blackboard. His pre-charmed writing began appearing. “Today we’re talking about counter-jinxes. We’ll practice them for the remaining class period and start back with Patronuses on Friday. Keep practicing, if you can.”

Saul and the Slytherin girl slammed the door after themselves.

* * *

 

Scorpius and Iset hung back at the end of the period. Harry beckoned them both forward once the room was empty except for the three of them.

“Sherbet lemon?” he offered.

They both took one.

“I want you two to be careful. Once Albus is doing better, I’m going to start offering extra lessons for self-defense. I think it would be good for both of you to attend. I had a colleague when I was an Auror, this older man—he’s dead now, but before that, he was something. He was a firm believer in the decade theory, as he called it. He said every decade or so there’d be a new resurgence in Dark Arts, and I’ve never seen anything to suggest his theory may be wrong. We’re nearing the next decade mark from the last. Stay alert, all right?”

Iset nodded, eyes wide. Scorpius looked disgusted.

“I can’t believe Saul,” he admitted. “I never really liked him much, but I never guessed he was getting mixed up in things like that.”

Harry frowned. “It’s easy to misjudge people.”

Iset shook her head. “It’s awful.”

“It is. But what’s lovely is the bravery that you two showed.”

Iset blushed. Scorpius beamed.

“Bravery?” he asked.

“Without a doubt.”

The two left his classroom smiling, hesitantly starting conversation. Harry wondered if Scorpius even knew that his dad used to be ‘best mates’ with Iset’s. Maybe Scorpius and Iset only knew each other as the ‘other wayward child of a Death Eater’. Sometimes, feeling supported and understood was more than enough.

* * *

 

Fourth period was his seventh year N.E.W.T. students. James, Nora, Evvie Wilson (Slytherin and Head Girl), Louis, Clementine Clearwater (a Ravenclaw like Louis), Ben Wood (James’s longtime friend, Gryffindor), and Bec Floyd (Hufflepuff) were huddled in a corner when Harry entered his classroom. It was nearly every student in the tiny class—they were only short three.

“A bit early for class,” he greeted. “Twenty minutes, actually.”

“Never too early to learn,” James shot back, but it was distracted and halfhearted. He bowed his head and resumed the group’s whispered conversation. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what had Hogwarts’ Best and Brightest so frantic.

He sat at his desk and began marking the essays his students had turned in, but Harry found himself glancing suspiciously up at his son, Louis, and their fellow seventh years every few minutes. Bits of their hushed conversation drifted over to him, but never enough to make sense.

“—no, my Aunt Hermione did that, but she’s got too much going on right now to help…”

“…Bec and Clem, you two are the best in Charms in our year, could you do it?”

“I dunno, I’ll certainly try my best, what do you think, Clem?”

“We can try, and if it doesn’t work, I bet Evvie and Nora could come up with _something_ , they’re very resourceful…”

“James, could you use your _new skills_ to help at all? Maybe by…”

Nora looked up suddenly. Harry locked eyes with her. He narrowed his suspiciously. She smiled angelically. She nudged James a moment later and whispered something. He glanced up. He looked back at the group a second later and began whispering something; the group whispered for a few moments, and then James rose. He walked over to Harry’s desk.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, James. Care to share what you’re plotting over there?”

“Yeah. I’d actually like your help. Will you come over here? We still have ten minutes ‘til class has to start.”

“Sure,” Harry said. He turned Aster’s essay over and rose, crossing over to the huddled group of N.E.W.T. students. He sat between Louis and Nora and looked around expectantly.

“Well?” He asked.

Clementine pushed a piece of parchment forward. Harry leaned over and examined it.

The Sevens Club  
Sign-up Sheet  
Please put your full name, your house, and your availability.  
Please sign the liability waiver provided to you by Clementine Clearwater.  
**Added by Louis** Please keep this away from Roxanne Weasley.  
~~**Added by Roxanne** Please tell Louis I’m going to make him regret this.~~

1\. James Potter – Gryffindor – Anytime is fine :)  
2\. Nora Thomas – Gryffindor – I’ll go whenever James goes  
3\. Evvie Wilson – Slytherin – Wednesday nights, Sunday nights, Tuesday nights. I can do Slytherin common room sweeps nightly.  
4\. Jacques Stinton – Slytherin – I can patrol Slytherin dorms.  
5\. Louis Weasley – Ravenclaw – Monday nights, Thursday nights, Saturdays  
6\. Clementine Clearwater – Ravenclaw – Monday nights after eight, Wednesdays after nine.  
7\. Bec Floyd – Hufflepuff – Nightly from 10 – 11  
8\. Ben Wood – Gryffindor – Nightly from 10 – 11  
9\. Sara Bones – Hufflepuff – Nightly from 10 -11 (nice try, Ben, Bec’s not interested)  
10\. Ben Wood – Gryffindor – Nightly from 11 – midnight (fine, I’m changing my time then, so I don’t miss the Exploding Snap competitions on Tuesdays)  
11\. ~~Roxanne Weasley – Gryffindor – Anytime~~ Roxanne is not a seventh year; she’s been removed, though we thank her for her eagerness. Signed, Clementine Clearwater.  
12\. ~~Up yours, Sevens – my house – always~~ Roxanne, please stop stealing our list. Thanks, Louis.

Harry looked up.

“Er…what _is_ this club?”

Everybody looked to James. He crossed his arms defiantly.

“Our new patrol. We’re going to set up times and we’re going to make sure nobody gets hurt again like Al did. We’re going to stop Houses from jinxing each other between classes and we’re going to set up nightly patrols.”

“Tensions are really high,” Louis added. “We’re aiming to increase inter-house communication.”

“And trust,” Bec added. “If everybody feels like we belong as a whole, instead of as four separate units, people will be less likely to turn a blind eye when others are being injured.”

“And also—we’d like to seriously hex some of the Slytherins who think what happened to Albus was okay,” Ben said.

“Ben,” Evvie sighed, annoyed.

“The Dark Slytherins, Evvie. Not you, clearly.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call them that.”

“And I wish you’d date me, but we all don’t get what we want.”

“Weren’t you _just_ coming onto Bec?”

“Nah, that’s just our thing, isn’t it, Bec? She’s got Sara.”

“Sure, Ben. It’s our ‘thing’.”

“Date me, Bright Slytherin.”

“Shove off.”

“Could you two shut up please?” Louis asked.

Everybody complied.

“I think this…” Harry trailed off. “As your professor, I recognize that this is probably a really risky endeavor. But as James’s dad and Louis’s uncle—this is brilliant.”

“Yeah?!” James beamed. He pumped his fist into the air, victorious.

“But,” Harry said quickly. “I prefer the emphasis on inter-house communication and trust and stuff, rather than the hexing. We all know now what some of your classmates are capable of.”

“We’re not going to start fights,” Clementine reassured him quickly. “This is all about covert observation. We have a rule to only interfere directly if somebody is in immediate danger of being hurt and a professor is not within a few feet. Otherwise, we have to go directly to the nearest professor or one of our club supervisors.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds reasonable. Who are your supervisors?”

James jumped. “Oh, damn! I knew I forgot something last night. Hey, Dad, will you be our supervisor?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Sure, James. Who’s my co-supervisor?”

“Neville, of course,” James told him. “It was partially his idea.”

Harry smiled.

* * *

 

“Miniature DA?” Harry greeted, coming to walk beside Neville. Neville looked up from his coffee and grinned.

“Something needed to be done! James had the idea and I thought…why not? You’re here, I’m here. Now all we need to do is convince Ginny to come here and Luna, too, and we’ll be unstoppable.”

Harry felt a sting of longing. “If only we could.”

“Everybody’s saying you’re going to offer self-defense lessons. If that’s true, you should teach the Sevens first.”

Harry nodded. He resisted the instinct to laugh at the club name. He kept getting a brief flash of all the spandexed superheroes in Dudley’s comic books growing up.

“Neville, how were your classes today? Was everybody talking about Albus?”

“ _I_ tried to talk about Herbology, but my students were talking about Albus nearly the entire lesson. Or, really, they were talking about this Slytherin versus Gryffindor thing.”

“Mine too. I sent two kids out of my class because they were basically saying Voldemort was right.”

Neville laughed loudly. Harry looked at him, confused.

“I sent one from mine!” Neville finally admitted.

Harry let out a relieved breath. He’d been worried he’d done the wrong thing.

“Oh, thank Merlin. I thought McGonagall was going to be angry with me.”

“No, she’s been a rampage. Sweeping up and down the halls, eyes peeled for Dark Magic. She’s really torn up that this sort of thing happened under her watch. She’s always sworn she wouldn’t let things like this happen again.”

While it was nice to know a headmaster/mistress was making an effort to be very involved, Harry didn’t want McGonagall to blame herself.

“It’s not her fault.”

“Of course not. But don’t we all feel at least a bit responsible when a child is injured?”

He had a point.

“Listen,” Neville said. “I’m debating on what to bring Albus when I visit tonight…at first, I thought the typical Chocolate Frogs, but Ginny told Luna and me this morning that he can’t keep any food down, so now I’m thinking something different…”

Harry and Neville walked down the corridor together, talking about what gifts to bring Albus, their eyes scanning with practiced precision over everybody they passed. Neville might’ve been right—every adult felt responsible for every kid. But it had been _Harry’s kid_. And he’d failed the most. He’d failed to de-escalate the situation. He’d failed to realize Halloran was plotting. And Harry vowed to never make that same mistake again.


	6. Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus tries a few new methods for pain management and healing. Scorpius discovers he's more protected at Hogwarts than he thought. Lily takes everything as a personal challenge. James faces a consequence. And Harry and Ginny can't stop mollycoddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! Thanks to everyone who commented and/or left kudos and thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up in the usual amount of time. In the meantime, those who are interested should check out http://auroralynne.tumblr.com/tagged/my+art! She's made some amazing pieces for this fic and I can't gush enough about how talented she is :')

Love was a mug of tea pressed into a quivering hand. Scorpius hung back and watched the exchange with a heavy heart.

“Go home.”

“No—how could you suggest that?” Ginny wrapped both hands around the mug, but it was still shaking so hard that bits of scalding tea were splashing over the rim and landing (presumably painfully) on her hands and wrists. She hardly seemed to notice it.

“Because you’re dead on your feet and you haven’t slept for longer than an hour at a time in…” Harry trailed off, his brow furrowing. “So long that I have to count to figure it out.”

“I’m fine,” Ginny argued. Though she was swaying as she stood, she’d become at least three shades paler than she ought to have been, and the shadows beneath her eyes made them look almost sunken. Scorpius wanted to push past them and into Albus’s room, but he was reluctant to interrupt the conversation. James and Lily must’ve agreed, because they were hanging back with him, too.

“You’re not fine. He’s sleeping. Go home and take a break. Hell—go to Neville’s or Luna’s or your mum’s and sleep. Just get in a proper bed and have a proper rest.”

Scorpius had only been that tired once in his life, but he remembered the way the smallest things had sent rage coursing through him. Albus’s mum’s eyes flashed in a similar way.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do, Harry, okay?”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. Scorpius glanced uncertainly at James. He didn’t look worried, so Scorpius assumed this wasn’t going to lead to a fight.

“Gin,” Harry said softly, after a moment’s pause. “How can you take care of Albus if you’re too tired to stand?”

The hardness in her eyes softened. Scorpius began edging forward bit by bit, his eyes locked on the end of Albus’s bed. If he turned sideways he could probably squeeze between Harry and the doorframe without drawing too much attention to himself…

“You’ve hardly slept, too.”

“I took a nap during lunch.”

“You skipped _lunch_?”

“Is that really the biggest concern right now?”

Scorpius tip-toed behind the arguing couple. He’d just barely reached the doorway when Harry glanced behind himself, his eyes landing on Scorpius.

“Oh, sorry, Scorpius,” he said. He stepped closer to Ginny, freeing up enough space in the doorway for them to pass by. “You three go in. Try not to wake him, though; Victoire says he’s had a bad afternoon.”

Scorpius’s heart plummeted. He quickened his pace through the doorway, his mind now entirely focused on Albus. His eyes sought him out immediately. He was indeed asleep, and deeply so; his blankets were twisted around him, his dark hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his arms were loosely wrapped around his pillow like he’d fallen asleep gripping it. His skin was far too pale. He had narrow, translucent tubes running into the skin of the crook of his elbow. Scorpius followed them with his eyes. They led to a strange looking contraption, surely Muggle, that seemed to be holding clear pouches of different colored liquids. Scorpius had seen a photo of them before. He’d read about them before, in one of the books in the library at Hogwarts, but he couldn’t remember what they were called.

“What the hell is that?” Lily hissed to James.

“I dunno…but I’m not sure I trust it…”

Scorpius racked his brains. “IB? ID? Something I…something. It puts stuff into your veins. The Muggles use it.”

“What are they putting into his veins?”

“I dunno…” Scorpius approached and grabbed the outermost bag. It was full of something amber. “I think this might be dittany. And this…” he cocked his head to the right, staring hard at the sage liquid. “Willow maybe? For pain? And this one…oh, this third one and the fourth are Muggle ones!” He paused. He glanced back at Lily and James. “It’s probably nutrients in one and fluids in the other! Muggles have this liquid that will keep you alive. It’s like…liquid food.”

“What the hell?” Lily repeated, eyeing the machine warily. “That doesn’t sound right. Food is meant to be _eaten_ , not drank, and certainly not put directly into a vein...the muggles are out of control…”

“I think it’s brilliant!” Scorpius exclaimed. He was close to geeking out; he was bent over in front of the bags now, closely examining the small stickers on the Muggle ones. _TPN…Electrolytes? Sodium chloride?_ “I wonder whose idea it was?! Hermione’s, I bet! He hasn’t been able to eat so this was the best thing! Your aunt is _great_! I love your aunt! I love your aunt and I love her books!”

“Aw,” James said, grinning. “You’re really into this Healing stuff, aren’t you? That’s really cool, mate. You should do it. After Hogwarts, I mean. You’d be a great Healer.”

Scorpius flushed, flattered and taken aback. He straightened and glanced back at James.

“Well, I dunno…I just find it interesting…”

“James is right. You’ve got a great bedside manner,” Lily agreed. “You always make me feel really safe.”

James looked at Lily, wicked smile in place. “Careful, Lulu. He’s spoken for.”

Lily scoffed and punched James’s shoulder. James tilted forward from the impact, but his smile didn’t falter.

“Not like _that_ , you—”

“Scorpius?”

Albus’s soft voice commanded more attention than a scream from anybody else would have. They all immediately fell silent and turned to look at his bed. Scorpius tripped in his haste to get to Albus. He perched lightly on the edge of the bed, mindful not to jostle him, and beamed. Albus quirked up the right side of his mouth feebly. His trapped hand moved beneath the twisted blankets a moment later, and after a few seconds of struggling, Scorpius realized he was trying to free his hand so he could take Scorpius’s. Scorpius quickly pried the blankets up, reached underneath them, and laced his fingers with Albus’s. Albus gave another half-hearted smile.

“What time is it?” he asked. He reached up to run his fingers through his sweaty hair, felt the tug of the IV, and froze. His eyes locked on the tubes. Then, to Scorpius’s horror, he reached over and forcibly yanked at the IV running into his arm.

“No!” Scorpius said quickly, his hand slapping over Albus’s.

“Ow,” Albus complained weakly. He seemed stunned that the cord was going _into_ him. “That hurt! What the hell is that?! Why is it in me?!” He wrestled with Scorpius’s blocking hands, managed to grab the cord again, and gave another experimental tug. “ _Ow!”_

“Stop doing that—it’s going into your vein, Albus! It’s a muggle thing, it’s okay, it’s going to help you,” Scorpius reassured. He thought Albus would fight him on it a bit longer, but at Scorpius’s reassurances, he immediately relaxed back against the pillows.

“Okay, cool,” he said. He didn’t even ask what sort of Muggle thing it was or what was dripping into his veins. He turned his attention to the people around his bed—both present and missing. “Hi, James. Hi, Lily. Where’s Mum? Is Dad back?”

“Hey, Albus,” James greeted. He perched on the edge of his brother’s bed. “How are you feeling? Mum and Dad will be back, they’re around here somewhere.”

“Albus, I brought this for you,” Lily said, and without any further explanation, she walked over and emptied what looked like four dozen pairs of boys’ underpants onto Albus’s bed. A stunned silence settled over the ward.

“Er…pants. Thanks?” Albus said, puzzled. He made no move to touch any of them. They were not Albus’s pants, Scorpius knew that much. “Er… _why_?”

Lily sat down atop the pile of underpants, looking very much like a queen atop a throne. She crossed her legs primly.  

“You’re looking at every pair of underpants Halloran Carrow’s friends own. And…” she summoned her schoolbag over to them. Nobody even bothered scolding her for using magic. She opened the bag and dumped out nearly a hundred socks. “I took one-half of all their socks. Just one from each pair.”

James was in stitches. He stretched out across the foot of Albus’s bed, head and legs dangling off opposite ends, laughing hysterically. Albus gave a hearty laugh, but that laugh turned into a grimace quickly; he flinched and his hands went to his stomach. Scorpius guessed laughing had caused pain. Seeing Albus in pain stopped the chuckles Scorpius had been giving immediately.

“Lily— _how_?!” James choked.

In response, Lily flung James’s invisibility cloak at his face.

“I borrowed this. You should really change your trunk combination. Thanks.”

“Ordinarily I’d say it only counts as borrowing if you ask first, and it’s stealing if you don’t, but I’m just so proud of what you’ve managed to pull off that we’ll let it slid this time.”

“Oh, great!” Lily hopped down and shoved all the undergarments back into her bag. She paused and lifted something that appeared to Scorpius to be three pieces of emerald string. “I never knew Avery was so _saucy_.”

“Give me that,” James requested around his ongoing laughter. Lily went to do so, but James held out a hand. “Wait. Scourgify and sanitize first.”

“Already did the lot,” Lily reassured him.

James grabbed the strange pants and set them on his head like a crown. “I’m going to wear this during our first Quidditch match against Slytherin. Let’s see how well Avery manages to hit the bludger then.”

Their background conversation faded as Scorpius realized Albus was not bouncing back from whatever surge of pain had overtaken him. Scorpius carefully pulled his legs up onto the bed and turned to face Albus. Albus was squeezing his eyes shut tightly now, his breaths coming in quick, pained bursts.

“Where’s my mum?” he asked Scorpius, and before Scorpius could reply, he doubled over. There was a horrible retching sound before he vomited all over the blankets—and James.

Scorpius heard Lily let out a cry of disgust, but he was too busy rubbing Albus’s back to pay attention. He had little to no interest in James and Lily until James made a troubling comment.

“Is this blood? Lily—is this…?”

Scorpius felt his heart sink. He immediately snapped his head towards the mess of sick on the bed. He stared at it the darkness blooming over the fabric until his own stomach was clenching—but not from nausea.

“We need a Healer,” he said quickly. He glanced back at Albus, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding from anywhere else. He looked pale, though. Albus tightened his grip on Scorpius’s hand.

“ _HEALER_!” Lily shrieked immediately. She jumped from the bed and stormed out into the hall, yelling louder this time. Scorpius frowned at Albus.

“What hurts?” he asked him.

Albus looked reluctant to respond. Scorpius squeezed his hand firmly.

“Albus.”

“Everything,” Albus finally admitted, his voice quivering. His green eyes were glassy. “Everything hurts.”

Lily returned in record time—with _three_ Healers, no less. Scorpius quickly made to move off the bed, but Albus refused to let go of his hand; Scorpius ended up kneeling next to the headboard, his arm stretched at a painful and awkward angle to try and keep out of the way while also not leaving Albus.

The Healers poked, prodded, and cast innumerable spells onto Albus. Scorpius was too frightened to take in much of what they were doing. He just knew that Albus’s hand was weak in his and he kept letting out involuntary whimpers.

“Take the willow off, we’ll have to find something else for the pain.”

“What, though? Nothing seems to be working. I’m concerned about how slow his progress is. With the amount of dittany this morning, and this new IV thing, he should be feeling much better.”

“Do you have to talk about that _here_?! In front of him?!” James suddenly exploded, furious and shaken, morphing once again into what the Potters labeled _Brother Bear._ “He can hear you! Don’t talk about him like he’s not there! He’s right there!”

Scorpius was gripping Albus’s hand tightly now.

The Healers lowered their voices, but their efforts were pointless; they could still make out every word.

“…with the bloke who just died an hour ago, I’m concerned, because his progress quickly plateaued too…”

“Bloke? What bloke?” Lily blurted nosily. “Somebody else got hit with this curse?!”

The Healers exchanged a look and quickly stopped speaking.

“We’re going to try to find something for the pain, Mr. Potter,” one of them said. Without another word—and without anything being done to help Albus—they left the room, whispering quickly amongst themselves.

“WE WANT NEW HEALERS!” James yelled after them, infuriated. He glanced once at his suffering brother and then stood. “I’m going to Floo Vic! This is _mad_! I don’t like these new Healers!”

He stormed from the room, fingers picking at his cuticles, lips pressed into a tight line. Lily hovered uncertainly near the door until Albus asked for his mum again, and then she muttered something about finding her and ran off.

Albus looked at Scorpius with a terrified expression, like he thought he would leave, too. Scorpius immediately stood and climbed back up onto the bed. The Healers had done a shoddy job of cleaning him, so Scorpius cast a few clumsy Scourgifys. They weren’t perfect, but they helped. Albus shifted down so he was lying on his side, his legs drawn into himself, his forehead pressed into his knees. Scorpius slowly slid down to lie beside him.

“How can I help?” he asked softly, sadly. He knew all too well that sometimes there were no ways to help suffering people, but whatever Albus needed, that’s what he’d do.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. Of course I won’t.”

They lay like that for a few minutes. Scorpius didn’t even try to force conversation; he could tell Albus was too wracked with pain to even focus on a topic. Instead, he turned over onto his side and fit his body around Albus’s, gripping him closely, his knees tucking behind Albus’s, his face hiding in Albus’s hair.

“When my mum was really ill,” he began quietly, his words brushing against Albus’s scalp. “She liked me to read to her. I used to read to her all day long. I don’t have a book now, but luckily for you, I’ve got most books memorized.”

Albus didn’t reply, but a second later, he shifted back, bringing himself closer to Scorpius. He seemed shivery, so Scorpius fumbled with his wand and summoned a spare blanket from the open cupboard along the far wall. He clumsily spread it out over them. He bent his knees just a bit more, bringing Albus closer to him. Snugly. That was a perfect word. To Scorpius, it felt perfectly snugly.

He didn’t know why he chose it, but he found himself reciting nearly word-for-word the retelling of the Chamber of Secrets incident of 1993 in the most recent revision of _Hogwarts: A History._ Albus had surely heard the story hundreds of times, having the parents that he did, but if it bothered him, he didn’t say. Scorpius closed his eyes and drew up a mental image of the pages in his copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. He saw a massive serpent in his mind’s eye. He saw a girl who looked like Lily. A boy just like Albus. A sword, a book, a phoenix. A tear.

After a while, Albus’s breathing went from jagged to even. His heartbeat grew steady and slow. Scorpius hesitantly lifted up and peered down at Albus. He had drifted off to sleep. Scorpius settled back down, not daring to venture far. He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but there was something undeniably soothing about Albus’s body against his, the steady rhythm of his slumbering heart, the comforting pressure of each inhale. He slipped off before he could think better of it, his mind dissolving into a series of twisting dreams that all featured Fawkes the Phoenix.

* * *

 

He woke gradually to the sound of many different voices.

“I can’t _believe_ I let you talk me into having a nap, Harry.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into having lunch, Ginny.”

“Marriage: the great compromise. But Mum, Dad, come on, let’s be realistic—even _you two_ have to sleep and eat sometimes. And it looks like Albus managed all right. They look pretty peaceful to me.”

Ginny grumbled something. Somebody snapped their fingers. Scorpius heard rapid footsteps right afterwards.

“Dad,” Lily sounded out of breath. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Sorry? You don’t have time for _what_?”

“This chatting. I’m busy.”

“Doing _what_?”

“…Running. I’m going to do muggle distance running.”

“She’s trying to find the bloke that died from the curse Albus got hit with,” James said.

“ _What_?!” Ginny and Harry said.

“Oh, seriously? I thought you both already knew.”

“No! Where did you hear that, James?” Harry asked urgently.

“The Healers…” James said, confused.

“I’m going to Hermione’s office. I’ll be back soon. Tell Albus, okay, Gin?”

“I will. Hurry back.”

“Lily, you’re staying here in this room.”

“ _Ugh!_ ”

More footsteps. Victoire!

“How’s he doing?”

“Still sleeping, thankfully. Any solutions?”

“A couple of ideas that will hopefully be a solution. We’re going to try phoenix tears instead of dittany once our next shipment comes in. We’ve rushed it, but all we can do is wait; we have no more left in storage here. In the meantime, I’ve got an idea that you might not like at first, but hear me out. I just spent two hours screaming at the other Healers and only _just_ managed to convince them to let me talk to you and Harry about it.”

“What a reassuring way to begin, Vic.”

“Sorry. I want to put him on muggle opioids for the pain.”

“Muggle opal-what?”

Lily muttered something about her dragon beneath her breath, but Scorpius missed most of it.

“Opioid. They work on the brain and sort of…intercept pain signals, which in turn keeps Muggles from feeling pain in the first place. Think of it like…a giant hand that catches the pain before it can register.”

“His _brain_? Like they tell him what to feel or think? No. No, Victoire, I don’t want—”

“Not like mind-control or— possession. Not like that at all. It won’t edit his thoughts or anything; it simply reduces and hopefully eliminates pain. _Only_ pain. We’d put it in the IV. It’d go into his body, and within a very short period of time, he should be relatively pain-free. It could cause a number of side-effects, especially considering he’s never had Muggle drugs before and it’s fairly potent, but I don’t know what else to try at this point. Every type of pain potion stopped working. The willow caused a stomach bleed—it was a horrid idea in the first place, but nobody listens to me. The pain spells only worked for a few minutes. It comes down to this: take a risk or wait it out.”

A silence settled over the room. Scorpius dared to shift just a bit closer to Albus; the blanket had slipped halfway off his body and the chilly hospital air was giving him goosebumps. Pulled further into the heat Albus always seemed to give off, he felt he could’ve drifted back off to sleep…

“And by wait it out you mean…”

“He’ll have to suffer through the pain until the phoenix tears come in. It could take up to two weeks.”

“Well, that’s clearly not an option. He can’t be in pain like this— I won’t have it. What’s the worst this Muggle drug could do?”

“That’s the problem with Muggle medicines…the side effects vary so much from person to person. It _could_ cause a host of issues—hives, blurry vision, trouble seeing, even seizures are reported as a rare side effect—but the most common are vomiting or drowsiness.”

Ginny’s face must’ve communicated something because Victoire quickly continued.

“There’s no guarantee that it won’t cause problems. But I can guarantee two things: that I’ll be watching him closely, ready to intervene at the first sign of problems, and that he _will_ be in unimaginable, excruciating pain if we _don’t_ do this. For days.”

 _No_ , Scorpius thought. Even in his half-asleep state, his body was recoiling at the thought. _No more pain._ Albus’s mum seemed to agree.

“Okay,” Ginny said softly. “Yeah, all right. If you—if that’s what you think is best, and if it’ll help him stop feeling like _this_ , yes.”

Victoire seemed to sense her hesitation. “Would you like to wait until Uncle Harry gets back to see what he thinks?”

“No, I don’t want to wait that long. There’s no way to know when Harry will be back and the pain could wake Albus again at any moment. As soon as you have it, give it to him.”

“Okay. And if it makes you feel any better, we’re getting the medicine from Hermione’s muggle parents, and they’d never give us anything that would harm Albus. Grandma Granger’s coming along to make sure we do it the right way.”

“Well. If suppose if there were ever a profession that needed special pain control techniques…it’d be the profession that relishes in shoving sharp objects into gums...”

Victoire laughed.

“Yeah, that’s one type of muggle healthcare I never could see much use in. All right. As soon as Uncle Ron arrives with Grandma Granger, we’ll begin administering it.”

“Thank you, Vic,” James said suddenly, his voice full of gratitude. “I never realized how brilliant of a Healer you are ‘til we had those other idiots.”

“I’m not any better than them. You just trust me,” Victoire said modestly, but Scorpius thought he might’ve sensed a hint of a flattered tone lurking beneath.

Exiting footsteps. James announced that he was starting homework and wanted silence. Scorpius knew he needed to wake, needed to start his own homework. But Albus was still sleeping, and he couldn’t shake the thought that there was no point in him being awake if Albus wasn’t. And, anyway—he was cuddled up to Albus so closely that if he moved, Albus would probably wake, and he didn’t want to be responsible for making him aware of his pain again.

“Look at them,” Lily cooed. “So precious. First love. I mean…I don’t really get it…personally, having napped in the same bed as Albus before, he’s _horrible_ to share a bed with…he won’t stay on his own side and he emits _way_ too much body heat for a normal person…but they do look happy.”

Ginny laughed. “Imagine how your dad and I felt that year Albus refused to sleep in his own bed. Imagine a clingy little ball of fire, snuggled up to us all night long, and that’s pretty close to explaining the nightly experience. _And_ I was extremely pregnant with you at the time… _and_ James refused to sleep in his bed if Albus got to sleep in ours, so he was always snuggled up with us, too…it was a nightmare. I had to cast a cooling charm every thirty minutes.”

 _Ha_ , Scorpius thought tiredly. _I’m not the koala bear—Albus is! Confirmed since age two! I have to remember to tease him about that…‘clingy little ball of fire’ is_ _fitting indeed…_

But he was already forgetting it as he slipped back off towards sleep. His drifting mind shifted between thoughts at a lazy pace as he sank into dreams. He was imagining the Chamber of Secrets…he was hearing Victoire say _phoenix tears_ …he was wondering if he’d chosen that story to tell Albus because he’d instinctively begun thinking about phoenix tears as a cure…he was imagining himself in lime green Healers robes, tending to patients…he was seeing his mum on her death bed…he was saying _here is the solution, you’re going to live, Mum..._ she was hugging him…she was telling him about the time he was two-years-old and refused to sleep in his own bed…he was a clingy little ball of fire…but no, that was Albus, not Scorpius…Albus was writhing in pain…Albus was clenching his fists as people called him _Slytherin Squib_ and Scorpius felt anger running white-hot through him…he was hexing Saul because Saul told Albus he wished he’d died…Scorpius was crying: ‘I can’t lose anybody else!’ and Saul was laughing and laughing and laughing…there was a cry, an incantation, a flash…Albus was gushing red everywhere, everywhere…a phoenix was crying in time with Scorpius…

“Scorpius? Scorpius—wake up.”

He jolted awake with a gasp, heart racing, his shirt stuck to his skin with sweat. He opened his eyes to find Albus’s face right above his, his dark brow furrowed in concern.

“You were shaking,” Albus said with a frown.

Scorpius barely registered what Albus said, because Albus’s cheeks had color to them. Albus’s face wasn’t covered in a sheen of sickly, pain-induced perspiration. Albus was hovering over him, his torso twisted slightly, and he wasn’t vomiting from the pain. Scorpius beamed hugely.

“You’re not in pain,” he blurted.

Albus smiled back. Scorpius slowly inched up. Albus did the same, so they were sitting side-by-side, their backs pressed against the pillows and headboard.

“No, I feel _great_ ,” Albus admitted. “A bit giddy, actually. Do you know what’s great? Morphine’s great. The muggles—they don’t _need_ magic. I can’t believe the things they can do with _science_.”

Scorpius was still beaming. He shifted closer, so their sides were touching, and their eyes were still locked, and he wanted terribly to lean forward and brush his lips against Albus’s—

“Scorpius! You’re awake. Great.” The Minister for Magic dropped an armful of books onto the end of Albus’s hospital bed. “I brought these for you. James says you’re interested in Healing _and_ Muggle medicine.”

Scorpius was horribly disoriented as he looked around. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Molly Weasley, the Potters—what time was it? Had he slept the entire night in Albus’s hospital room? Had he missed classes? What _day_ was it?

Hermione continued, seemingly blind to Scorpius’s mounting confusion, lifting each book up as she spoke.  

 _“The Art of Healing: A Substantial Guide to a Substantial Profession, Top 100 Healing Spells, Healing Potions and their Histories, Herbs and their Medicinal Purposes, Curse Your Curse: How Healing Made Dark Magic Inconsequential, Comforting the Comfortless, Pain, Pain, Go Away, Modern Surgical Procedure, Neurosurgery: The Essential Handbook, Gray’s Anatomy, Merck Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy, The Heart and its Disorders: Cardiovascular to Psychosomatic_ , and I’ve got a really brilliant book on Muggle medical applications within the Wizarding world on backorder for you. It should be ready by the first Hogsmeade visit.”

Scorpius was leaning over towards the foot of the bed before she’d even finished speaking, his heart picking up pace in his excitement. His hands ghosted over the beautiful, pristine copies. He reached for _Pain, Pain, Go Away_ , which sported a rather dramatic photo of a witch and her child moaning in pain with horrible purple pustules upon their skin (almost certainly spattergroit—a peculiar choice as there were many things far more painful than spattergroit that they could’ve chosen).

“This—is— _amazing!_ ” he exclaimed, unable to fetter his excitement. He looked up at Hermione. “I love these. I _love_ these! I can’t wait to read them! Thank you!”

Hermione beamed. “You’re very welcome, Scorpius.”

“The only problem now is…which will I read first…” Scorpius mused aloud. Intermingled chuckles. Scorpius looked up a second later. “Er…what day is it? Have I missed class?”

“No, don’t worry—same day. It’s nearly eight. Harry’s going to take you lot back to Hogwarts soon,” Ginny reassured him.

He felt like he’d been asleep for much longer than a couple of hours. He felt like he’d been asleep for ages. His dreams—gone from him now, fleeting and transitory—had seemed to go on forever. And he was not relieved to hear that he still had a night in the dorms to look forward to. He glanced at Albus, longing for a way to stay right where he was. Albus was already looking at him. And it was not the sort of look Scorpius wanted to receive in the company of Albus’s parents, siblings, uncle, and the Minister for Magic. Scorpius immediately felt his face flood with heat. His heart did that Albus-thing.

“Right,” Harry said suddenly. “I’ve been meaning to show you lot—something. In the…— another room. Come on.”

“What?” Ron asked. “What could you possibly have to show us at St. Mungo’s that we haven’t already—”

“ _Ron_ ,” Hermione said pointedly.

“…oh, right…” Ron muttered.

“Dad, I don’t _want to_ —”

“ _Lily_ ,” Ginny said sternly. “That wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.”

“ _Fine_!”

Scorpius knew, somewhere deep down, that they were leaving to give Scorpius and Albus some time alone before Scorpius had to leave, but he didn’t care. He was fidgeting and counting down the seconds until they’d be gone, so he could kiss Albus, but he never got the chance; the moment the door shut behind the last person, Albus’s lips were on _his_ , warm and soft and familiar at first, and then very different.

It was not like their other kisses. The pressure of Albus’s mouth was hard and demanding; he gripped Scorpius’s robes so tightly that his nails pressed into his chest, and before Scorpius could process much of anything besides _this is good, this is grand—divine—heavenly_ , Albus was hovering over him, pressing him back into the pillows. His first time being free from excruciating pain had made him bolder than normal. His tongue brushed Scorpius’s lips. His fingers tugged at Scorpius’s tucked in shirt. Scorpius wanted desperately to do the same, to feel Albus’s skin beneath his fingers, to see if he’d laugh if he brushed over his ribs again—but he was afraid, and it was only his concern for Albus that managed to break through his rapidly building lust.

“Al—bus,” Scorpius managed to say, each syllable getting interrupted by kisses. “You’re—ill—”

Albus must’ve sensed Scorpius’s concerned hesitation because he paused a second later. He stared down at Scorpius. His eyes were still fierce.

“I feel _great_ ,” Albus breathed, and there was no way Scorpius could doubt that. Albus dropped down on top of him a moment later, with a suddenness that knocked the breath from Scorpius, his body settling quite naturally and _nicely_ over Scorpius’s. Scorpius let out an involuntary squeak a second later; Albus’s lips were on _his neck_ and Scorpius thought he was dying. Surely he was dying. His heart was in overdrive. His heart was low, low, low, lower than was probably legal. His skin was aflame. Thought. He’d had a thought before this. He was thinking of— _Oh! Neck was good. Neck was great! No. Wait. Focus, Scorpius. It was important…_

“But!”

It was all he managed to yelp. Thankfully, it was enough. Albus propped himself back up and peered down at Scorpius, grinning.

“What was that?”

Okay. He could think now—sort of. Though Albus’s eyes weren’t exactly calming in their current, intense state.

“But you’re still ill. You just don’t feel pain because of your medicine. You could still be hurting yourself.”

_There, nicely done, Scorpius. Nicely done indeed._

Albus furrowed his brow. “Oh, is this too much?”

“What? No! No, no, _no_. I assure you that is _not_ the issue! A suggestion, and I hope you like it. Suggestion: you lie nicely against the pillows, _I_ maul you with kisses.”

“ _Maul_?” Albus snickered.

Scorpius nodded. “Maul. In the best way possible. I’d like to be mauled by you daily. Hourly. Secondly.”

“Perhaps I _like_ to be the...mauler, and not the maulee,” Albus grinned. But he was already rolling off of Scorpius and onto his back. Scorpius had to resist the urge to check his torso for new purple streaks. He was not Healer Malfoy. He was Scorpius. He was Albus’s boyfriend. Things were okay. Albus was okay now. He wasn’t in pain—he was lying on his back, breathless, cheeks flushed, hair and clothes perfectly rumpled, and Scorpius realized with a startled jolt that he was allowed to kiss and touch him now. He didn’t need to tell himself twice.

He kissed him first, because that was familiar, that was safe and nice and _right_. He kissed Albus until he’d grabbed onto Scorpius’s clothes again and tugged him closer.  Scorpius got caught up quicker than he’d planned, and it all began with his fingers inching up the hem of Albus’s hospital gown. The world had somehow narrowed in the best way: nothing was important in that moment but Albus. Albus’s happiness, Albus’s mouth on his, Albus’s warm skin. For once, Albus was the opposite of pained, and nothing had ever been more beautiful; it felt like a gift after seeing him suffering so much. And Scorpius’s heart was doing that Albus-thing to a new and alarming degree. He was partially convinced it was going to burst from his chest. Surely there was an affliction similar to this in the pages of _The Heart and its Disorders: Cardiovascular to Psychosomatic._ What would it be called?

 _Love_ , he thought. But then Albus’s lips were back on his neck.

 _Love_ , he persisted, but then he was swept up in the feeling of Albus’s hands on him.

 _Love,_ he demanded, but then the door opened.

“Potters, I’ve unfortunately spoken with Goyle of all people and—Ah!”

Dad. His dad’s voice. And when he quickly jerked his head around towards the doorway—yes. His dad. Oh no.

For the first time Scorpius had ever seen, Draco Malfoy was pink-cheeked with embarrassment. He didn’t say another word. He retreated and slammed the door shut, leaving Scorpius and Albus in a stunned silence.

“Whoops,” Albus finally whispered.

His dad’s intrusion felt like a shock of cold water on Scorpius’s senses. The hospital bedding rustled noisily as they pulled apart, removed hands from beneath clothes, and struggled to tidy themselves. Albus tried to comb through his disheveled hair with his fingers as Scorpius continued staring at the shut door in horror. Albus gave up on his hair, leaned over, and tapped Scorpius’s nose.

“You all right?” he asked a bit sheepishly.  

“No. Not quite. That was…my dad. My _dad_ just walked in.”

“Yeah, I think I caught onto that…”

“My _dad_! On _us_! Doing— _things_!”

“Resting?” Albus deadpanned.

“This is no time for jokes!” Scorpius cried, tormented. Albus’s lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh.

“Sorry. Right. Erm…shall we catch him and Obliviate him? Or we could just have trusty Lockhart do it for us.”

Scorpius stared at Albus, aghast. Albus was smiling now—one of his soft smiles. His eyes were equally indulgent. Scorpius felt his horror slowly leaking from him until he was smiling, too. They gave hesitant chuckles that turned into full-blown laughter. Scorpius turned and settled back down beside Albus. Albus wasted no time; his arms were tightly around Scorpius in a moment, holding him close, cuddling him snugly. Scorpius’s head landed quite naturally over Albus’s heart. He closed his eyes and listened. He couldn’t wait to read his new books. He couldn’t wait to find out for certain what made Albus’s heart so different from everybody else’s.

“I don’t think your dad will be mad,” Albus finally said.

Scorpius lifted his head. He appraised Albus. His lips were still a bit swollen and his hair messier than ever, but he still looked happy and pain-free.

“No, I don’t think so either. I wasn’t really worried about that,” Scorpius admitted. His next words came with no prior thought. “He knows, you know? He knows what it’s like—to watch somebody you love in misery.”

Scorpius hardly noticed his own slip-up. But then Albus’s cheeks flushed, and Scorpius’s did, too. They stared at each other for a long moment. Albus hesitantly sat up. Scorpius followed.

“Love?” Albus questioned. Quite bravely, in Scorpius’s opinion. Scorpius’s heart was beating like Albus’s now. He considered brushing off what he’d said. He could’ve done so in a multitude of ways. He could’ve said _yeah, well, of course…I’ve always loved you, you were my best mate…_ but he was still so sore from the things he’d seen recently. He wasn’t willing to waste even one conversation with Albus, because even though he was doing better, he hadn’t ruled out the dark worry that he’d take a turn for the worst. And if that happened…well. Scorpius knew all about making sure nothing was left unsaid.

“Albus,” he began. He shifted to face him. “I can’t explain what it felt like to see you that way. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so terrified. And seeing you in so much pain, it felt like… _I_ was in pain.”

He was certain there was a way to make that sound less soppy, but if he did, it’d be less true. He pressed on.

“All I could think about, on repeat, over and over again, was that you _had_ to be okay. Because I need you. I couldn’t imagine life without you. I—” at the last moment, he choked on the word. “—I couldn’t stand to be without you. Without Albus Potter.”

Albus didn’t seem to know what to say. Scorpius continued.

“All I wanted was to make your pain go away. I would’ve done anything, given anything…” he trailed off, his cheeks warming. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“I know. No, I know, Scorpius. When Delphi—when she used the Cruciatus on you…”

Scorpius could hardly recall the pain now; it’d been so intense, so brutal, that his memory had paved over the details it. All he remembered was the fact that it’d _hurt_ , but not any actual sensory memories of how that pain had felt. But he did remember Albus’s cries.

“Right. So. In summary: we’ve both got to _stop_ getting hit by Dark Magic; it’s very emotionally tiring and unproductive.”

“I dunno. I’d say this experience has been rather productive for me,” Albus quipped. With a _smirk,_ of all things. Flirty Albus. Finally. It felt like it’d been ages since Scorpius had heard him or seen him. He immediately reached forward and grabbed onto Albus, pulling him over and crushing him to his chest. Albus’s face was pressed firmly over Scorpius’s heart. Scorpius squeezed and squeezed him while Albus muttered something incoherent.

“Breaths—need—breaths—breathing—need—oxygen—”

Scorpius let up his pressure. He felt, all in all, that a Potter like Albus should be used to suffocating hugs by now. He kept his arms around Albus and he kept Albus halfway on top of him. His hand went to Albus’s messy hair. He brushed his fingers through it as best he could—it needed a good combing and probably a good wash, too. Its inherited untidiness was expected, but it’d gone beyond that level now. Scorpius sort of preferred it.

“I don’t want to leave,” Scorpius blurted.

“Don’t.”

“I’ve got to.”

“Hide.”

“Where? Under the bed? I think the Healers would spot me.”

“In another room. In the shower. In—oh!”

Albus sat up. He turned his head towards the left, his eyes landing on a far table where James and Lily had strewn their books and belongings. The pile of Slytherin boys’ underpants and socks had disappeared—thrown out by Ginny, who seemed torn between amusement and repulsion—but there was still another wad of fabric…the Invisibility Cloak…James had left it with his books…

“We couldn’t. We shouldn’t,” Scorpius said, catching on immediately.  

“You _could_ , Scorpius.”

“James would realize it’s missing…my dad would think _I’m_ missing…”

“I’ll tell them…we had an argument! And you went back to Hogwarts!”

“And when my dad goes to check on me?”

“…Oh, right.”

“We can’t do that to him. _I_ can’t do that to him. Not after what I put him through last year.” Albus looked crestfallen. Scorpius added something else. “I wish terribly that I could, though.”

Albus sighed. “I guess we shouldn’t give your dad any more reasons to potentially keep us apart, anyway.”

“Oh, he won’t try to keep us apart. But…will Harry be angry? Or Ginny?”

Albus laughed loudly. Scorpius furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“Er…honestly…my dad might be a bit _proud_. He gave me this ‘talk’ yesterday, you see, and I think he’d just feel proud that I actually listened. And Mum, well. Mum told me she doesn’t care what I do as long as it’s what _I want_ to do and as long as I take care of myself. But that’s Mum for you. The Potter parents aren’t a problem.”

Scorpius’s mind was already flashing back to disturbingly detailed pages of a couple of specific books, given to him quickly by his embarrassed father.

“My dad did that, too. The ‘talk’, if you want to call it that. He gave me…er… _books_.”

Albus grinned. It already looked wicked. “Books, huh?”

“Yeah…some…books…” Scorpius evaded. “About…things…and stuff…some of which we’ve done…most of which we haven’t…some of which I wouldn’t ever…most of which I would…some of which I’d do _daily_ and some that seemed quite _evil_ —erm—not that I’m suggesting or implying—well, you know, scientific minds _are_ inquiring and I’ve got a very scientific mind, Albus, even if appearances wouldn’t dictate so, so what I mean to say is—”

“Did your books cover that horrifying spell?” Albus interrupted. “My dad didn’t tell me about it, of course, he covered really nice stuff only, but James said he caught these really randy seventh years using it last year _in the Quidditch stands_! _Fruo-_ something, I think was the incantation? Frightening stuff. McGonagall gave them detention for a year.”

“Yes,” Scorpius squeaked, his eyes wide. “Y-E-S yes. I can’t believe that’s _legal_ …I’ll bet my dad didn’t even know that was in the book he gave me…”

“Think that’s what Bellatrix Lestrange used on Voldemort when they made Delphi?” Albus sniggered.

“ _Al!_ ” Scorpius blurted, horrified and guiltily amused. Albus succumbed to laughter. Scorpius was able to laugh along once the disgust from that mental image faded away. They laughed together for a few moments. Albus was looking at him softly once it pandered off.

“You called me _Al_. Do you call me Al now?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe! I didn’t really mean to, I’m just used to it now that I’m around your family all the time…does it bother you?”

“No, oddly enough. I think I like it.”

Scorpius grinned hugely. “All right. Al.”

“Well, don’t force it, though, that just sounds wrong…”

“Of _course_ , Al-bus.”

Albus slowly moved back down so his head was resting on Scorpius’s chest. Scorpius liked the role reversal; he liked being the one to feel the weight of Albus on _his_ chest, for a change. He resumed brushing through his tangled hair.

“Be careful in the dorms.”

“I’m always careful. Careful Malfoy. Cautious Malfoy.”

“The first step to diligence is not assuming you know everything.”

“Then you’re probably _rubbish_ at being diligent,” Scorpius shot back.

Albus’s snarky reply never got a chance to make it past his lips. A sudden, loud knock on the door stopped them. Whoever it was knocked once, twice, three times, four—

“ALBUS. SCORPIUS. WE—ARE—BACK. WE—ARE—GOING—TO—ENTER—”

“James, unnecessary. Can we come in, Al?”

To Scorpius’s intense dismay, Albus sat up and moved a couple inches away from Scorpius. He met Scorpius’s frown.

“Best not to fuel James any more than he already has been.”

“Right.”

The Potters, Ron, Hermione, and Draco reentered. Draco couldn’t seem to meet Scorpius’s or Albus’s eyes. Harry seemed equally unable. Ginny elbowed both men, annoyed. Ron winked at them. Hermione smacked Ron. And Lily and James…

“Love,” Lily sighed in exaggerated sweetness. She clasped her hands in front of her. “The noblest of pains, the most _glorious_ of _deeds_!”

“‘ _The sight of lovers feedeth those in love’!_ ” James cried dramatically, his palm pressed over his heart. Scorpius gaped.

“Hang on—did you just quote Shakespeare? Albus, did your brother just quote _Shakespeare_?”

James winked. _“‘Love hath made thee a tame snake’._ ”

He stared, surprised. “When did you read _As You Like It_?”

“Mine lady doest Shakespearean performances ov'r the gentle summ’rs.”

“ _Oh, Merlin_ …” Albus muttered, eyeing James with mounting disgust. “Don’t get him started, please.”

“Yeah, we get it, Romeo,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes fondly. She patted James’s arm. He grinned at her and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side in a hug. She continued. “Scorpius, I’m sorry, but it’s time to head back to Hogwarts.”

“I’ve spoken with Harry and McGonagall—things will be safe there for tonight,” his dad told him. “But—here. Hermione’s secured another set of mirrors for us, like the ones we used during your holiday this summer. If there’s any trouble—even if it’s only a short argument—contact me straight away.”

Draco approached the bed. Scorpius scooted to the edge and reached for the mirror. He stared down at his own reflection. His eyes caught red marks on his neck. _Oh my._

“Great!” he squeaked, his hands rising to slap foolishly over his love marks. “Brilliant! I’ll just…bye!”

He jumped from the bed, his face ablaze, and hurried towards the fireplace without telling anybody goodbye. He heard footsteps following after him.

“Scorpius—wait. I want to talk.”

“Sure, you’re talking right now, keep on doing just that and you’ll achieve your goal!” Scorpius cried. His voice sounded a bit hysterical. Or more hysterical than usual, anyway.

His dad caught his forearm. He pulled Scorpius to a gentle stop. Scorpius looked up at his dad’s face. The fine lines branching out from the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual.

“I am not angry. And we don’t have to talk about what I saw.”

“Okay. Okay! Okay. Great.”

He continued forward. His dad matched his pace.

“But I do have to ask—did you read those books I gave you?”

“Books!” Scorpius stopped dead. “I’ve left the books Hermione gave me!”

Draco turned around, showcasing Scorpius’s schoolbag, hanging from Draco’s shoulders. “All here, don’t worry. But I meant, erm, _another_ set of books. Books I gave you.”

“The sex books. Right. The books about bodies. And sex. And…sex.”

Draco winced. He cast a mortified look around them and then stepped closer.

“Could you stop saying that so loudly?” he hissed.

“Sorry—nervous twitch. Okay. Done. Sorry. Yes. Yes, I read them. Dad, did you know one of them was a Muggle romance novel? Intriguing read but perhaps not what you meant to give me…”

“No, I—I meant to. I went to…this is embarrassing. Erm. I went to a Muggle bookshop, because there wasn’t a lot on the subject in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, and I asked the Muggle shop attendant to direct me to the books about…I forget what she called it, but, you know…and she took me to this massive section, so I said, which are the most positive? And she said that one had…‘very strong and positive role models for young men’.”

Scorpius’s thoughts flew to a few particular mental images.

“…Yeah, Dad, I suppose they were…strong.”

Draco looked frustrated.

“I didn’t know what else to do. Modeling is important.”

Scorpius blinked, baffled. “Well, the men on the cover were attractive but they weren’t really models in the novel—”

“No, I mean relationship modeling. I had a difficult time with that. When I first started dating your mum. All I’d ever seen modeled was my parents’ relationship and it had so many faults and I didn’t _want_ to treat your mum the way my dad treated my mum. And it made me think, you know…you don’t really have a relationship to look up to…and I thought…it was probably stupid. I’m sorry. Your mother would’ve set me right had she still been here.”

Draco looked humiliated and heartbroken. Scorpius scrambled to reassure his dad, even though he was substantially baffled. He allowed himself to speak openly, hoping his father would understand.

“Dad, no, it was…good. I enjoyed – it was…enlightening. But I _do_ have a relationship ‘model’. Dad, I watched you and Mum. It doesn’t actually matter that you two aren’t two boys. That doesn’t have anything to do with it. A relationship’s a relationship and I have the _best_ role model—I have you.”

Draco blinked. “I never thought of it that way.”

“That’s all right. Will you try to think of it that way now?”

“Yes, I will. I’m sorry that I don’t know much about any of this, but I want you to know that…I’m trying. And all I care about—all the Potters care about, too—is that you and Albus are happy and safe.”

“We are,” Scorpius said immediately, pleased that he’d already vanished that forlorn look in his father’s eyes. “And I think you’re doing a _brilliant_ job, Dad. Mum would, too.”

“That…that means a lot, Scorpius,” his dad said stiffly. He was blinking rapidly, though, presumably against tears.

“Er…not to break up this lovely father-son moment…but could we pass?”

Draco and Scorpius turned around. Three Healers were standing crossly behind them with an unconscious woman on a stretcher.

“Oh—sorry, yes, of course.”

The Healers passed, they finished their journey to the Floo, and Draco passed Scorpius his bag.

“Be careful.”

“I will,” Scorpius promised.

“Somebody will bring you here tomorrow if you like.”

“I do.”

“Be careful around everybody. Even people you think you know.”

“Okay.”

His dad pulled him into a quick, tight hug, and then Scorpius was spinning back towards Hogwarts.

* * *

 

He was nearly to the Slytherin dungeon when a hand came out of nowhere and clasped around his wrist, tugging him forcefully to the side.

“Ah! No!” Scorpius yelled immediately. He writhed and turned, ready to scream at his attackers, only to stop. “James? Evvie? Unknown Gryffindor that I think plays Quidditch?”

“Ben Wood, hello!” Ben greeted.

“…Hi? Did I do something…wrong, Evvie?” Scorpius worried.

“No. You’d know if you had; I’d have you by the ear by now,” Evvie told him. Scorpius gulped. Ben lifted his eyebrows and smirked, impressed. James nudged Ben. Evvie ignored them all. “James is here to escort you.”

“Escort me?” Scorpius asked, looking between James and Evvie in confusion. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for _you_ to escort me, seeing as though _you’re_ the Slytherin?”

“You’re not going to the Slytherin dungeon, so no, not really.”

Scorpius stared. “I’m…not?”

“Nope. You’re bunking with the Sevens tonight,” James told him cheerfully. He threw his arm around Scorpius’s shoulders. Scorpius furrowed his brow.

“Okay…is that supposed to mean something?”

“We’re—” Ben gestured at himself, Evvie, and James— “The Sevens. Well, along with quite a few others, from every House. Our job is to stop these House skirmishes from escalating to a full-blown war.”

“And it wouldn’t be any good for our conflict resolution goals if you were murdered in your dormitory,” Evvie added. “I’m working day and night—”

“—Tirelessly, _nobly_ , she is—”

“Hush, Wood. I’m working very hard to squash the idea that all Slytherins are murderers, so the other houses will feel less inclined to want to attack us, and that’ll be difficult work to continue if one of our own is nearly murdered again. Or actually murdered.”

“She’s still heartbroken about what happened to Albus,” Ben stage-whispered. “Heartbroken. She thinks of you lot as her precious Slytherin children…”

“ _Wood_!”

“Wilson! Our surname’s both start with W—the same. Coincidence? That’s for you and your monogrammed belongings to decide.”

Evvie sighed, but her lips twitched for a brief moment. Scorpius took their brief silence as an opportunity to voice his extreme concerns.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it—because I do, I’m really glad you lot don’t want me murdered in my bed, really touching—but the Gryffindors in my year already hate me, so I don’t think I’m much safer around them.”

“Your year isn’t involved in this. It’s _only_ seventh years—well, Mum said I _have_ to let Roxanne join since she’s only a year off, and of course I’m going to listen, but that is the _exception_ , and certainly no fifth years,” James explained.

Scorpius frowned. “My dad said the Slytherin dorms are safe…”

“Rumor is your dad’s been visiting all the Dark Slytherins’ parents—” Evvie reached over and set her hand over Ben’s mouth, halting his words; he retaliated by kissing her palm, which caused her to pull her hand away.

“ _Dark Slytherins_ , I’ll show you a _Dark Slytherin_ , Chase Wood,” Evvie muttered underneath her breath, annoyed.

Ben turned a couple shades darker. “ _Ben_! My name is _Ben_!”

She was smirking now. “Chase Benjamin Wood. Chase. Chase _Wood_.”

“Stop…Evvie ‘Bright Slytherin’ Wilson!” Ben paused. “What _is_ your middle name?”

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”

“Er…not to interrupt…but… _what’s_ the rumor about my dad?” Scorpius asked.

Ben continued cheerfully. “Oh, so basically he’s been threatening all his old mates and telling them to keep their kids away from you at all times,” Wood said. “While he’s probably confident that his method will work, James and Evvie weren’t willing to risk it.”

Scorpius stared at them. “My _dad_ did that?”

“Yes,” James told him. “But he’s operating under the assumption that every dad has control over his kids which is—far from true. So, to eliminate any potential risk, the Sevens are taking you underneath our wing.”

Scorpius had to admit he’d been dreading going into his dorm after his confrontation with Saul.

“Okay, yeah. Where am I staying? Not the Gryffindor tower, right? Because there’s no way I would be overlooked…”

“No—Room of Requirement. Neville helped us set up the perfect sanctuary. Evvie’s going to get your belongings—here’s a bit of paper—write down everything you need and she’ll bring it to you shortly. Ben and I will take you to the headquarters. Nora will be there with you, so don’t worry, you won’t be alone among strangers.”

He was given a muggle notebook and pen. He pressed it against the wall and scrawled out a variety of items. He had all his new books and his homework in his school bag, but he needed his Pygmy Puffs and his pajamas and clothes for tomorrow.

“The Room of Requirement can provide toiletries,” Evvie told him, upon examining his list. “I’ll get the rest.”

After Evvie set off, James held something familiar out to Scorpius.

“Here you go,” he said.

Scorpius stared. “Your cloak.”

“Yes. Do you want to put it on or shall I?”

“I can,” Scorpius said, after a moment’s hesitation. He shook the cloak out and flung it over his head.

“Follow me,” James said, and then they set off.

* * *

The inside of the Room of Requirement was massive.

There was a kitchen, four sofas, innumerable books, hammocks, and a dozen bunk beds. Three doors lined the wall to the far right reading _Ladies, Gents, Any_. Scorpius assumed they were toilets and showers. Nora jumped up from one of the sofas when they entered.

“Jamie!” she celebrated. She hurled herself into his opened arms. He received her with a pleased laugh. “That took longer than you said it would. I was worried. Clem was cursed in the corridor while you were gone, I was worried that…”

“No, I’m fine,” James hurriedly said. “What happened to Clem? Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine,” Nora reassured him. He tightened his arms around her in response.

“Not the same curse as Albus’s?” Ben Wood demanded, horrified. Nora pulled back and turned to face him.

“No! No. But it was an attempted Cruciatus. Not very good…whoever did it had clearly never done it before…and she has no idea who cast it…but everybody’s been on edge. They’re that way in the meeting room. Neville’s here, all the Sevens but you two and Evvie, and _McGonagall_ , believe it or not. Where’s your dad?”

“Not coming. He’ll be between the Ministry and St. Mungo’s all night. Did everybody see the _Evening Prophet_?” James asked.

“Yes. The man who died from that curse. It’s awful.”

Scorpius frowned. He’d forgotten. “Who was it? What happened?”

“An old ex-Auror,” James told him. “My dad didn’t know him well—he retired before Dad joined—but he was active during the Second Wizarding War. He’d already been bleeding for ten minutes before somebody spotted him. It was too late—the magic did too much damage.”

“ _Why_?” Scorpius breathed.

“Similar reasons to why Halloran tried to do my dad in. Revenge. Something’s going on. They’ve banded together underground or something…it’s the only way to explain why they’re all trying to seek revenge at the same time, in a way that is at least partially organized.”

A door Scorpius hadn’t noticed before—along the wall straight across from the entrance door—opened suddenly. Professor McGonagall stuck her head out, relieved.

“Oh, good—I thought it was you, Mr. Potter. Please come in. Ms. Thomas, Mr. Wood, if you’d be so kind to join us. And hello, Mr. Malfoy. You’re looking much better.”

Scorpius waved dumbly. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising: the fact that James had started what appeared to be a gang, or that it was McGonagall-sanctioned.

Nora reached over and briefly patted Scorpius’s shoulder. “Pick anywhere you’d like to sleep. If you need anything, just think it, and it’ll appear.”

Scorpius nodded. James patted his shoulder too before they walked off, disappearing behind the heavy double doors. He wandered around, examining the books along the wall. Evvie walked in a moment later.

“Here are your things, your little puffball pets are going mad,” she greeted. She set a bundle of clothing down on a small table. The Pygmy cage followed. “Where did Ben go?”

“He’s in that room,” Scorpius said, pointing at the closed meeting room door. “I think you’re supposed to join them. Thanks for my stuff.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Evvie nodded. She headed towards the door. And Scorpius found himself alone.

“Okay, Bathilda,” he muttered. He crossed over to the table and opened the cage. The anxious balls of fluff scurried up his arms and nestled excitedly at his neck. “Okay, King. This is not scary. I’ve just got to remind myself that this is not scary. I mean…sure. It’s empty. I’m alone. It’s a new place. It’s a lot dimmer than I’d like—”

His words broke off as the lighting suddenly increased. A cheery fire sprang to life in the fireplace. A blanket not unlike the throw Scorpius’s mother always used in her favorite sitting room in Malfoy Manor appeared on the sofa directly across from it. A second later, a mug of marshmallow-laden hot chocolate. Scorpius looked up at the ceiling.

“Wow, you’re good,” he told the room. He thought the lights may’ve winked, but he’d probably imagined it.

He got settled on the surprisingly comfy sofa—throw blanket wrapped around him, Pygmy Puffs bouncing on his shoulders, his new books piled on the cushions beside him—and then reached for the hot chocolate. He took a long sip. King was jumping up and down, squeaking loudly in Scorpius’s ear. Scorpius winced and reached up, grabbing the yellow puff. He brought him down into his lap instead. The blue one anxiously scurried down to resume her place at King’s side.

King’s eyes seemed to be on the mug. Scorpius hesitantly lowered it. He watched curiously as King rushed over. Scorpius thought _I wish I had a tiny spoon…_ and one was there, sticking out of his mug. He picked it up, lowered it into the thick beverage until it was full, and then he curiously held it out. King sank face-first into it, slurped, and then made a bossy squeak. Scorpius laughed.

“You love chocolate. You’re just like Albus.”

The Pygmy fell still at the name. He spun slowly in Scorpius’s hand as if he were searching around himself.

“Oh, sorry. He’s not here.”

Bathilda made slow progress over to where the mug was. She came to rest beside King, yellow fur to blue. She gave a long, sad sounding sniffle.

“He’s fine, though. Honest,” Scorpius quickly told them, just in case they understood. “He’ll be back. Bathilda, do you want some hot chocolate?”

He refilled the tiny spoon and held it out to his Pygmy Puff. Bathilda approached cautiously…and then jumped back. She approached again—and then jumped back. This continued for another minute until King finally came up behind Bathilda and rolled the blue Pygmy Puff over to the spoon. Scorpius hooted in glee when she finally tasted the hot chocolate.

“Good job!” he praised. Bathilda kept on drinking. “See—good things come from trying new things! It’s good, isn’t it?”

He took a sip, he gave King a sip, he gave Bathilda a sip, and on and on it went until the hot chocolate was drained. The Sevens still hadn’t emerged from the room.

“All right, reading it is. Which should I start with, hmmm…” Scorpius mused. Bathilda watched him curiously. King rolled back and forth precariously from his new spot atop Scorpius’s head. “ _Pain, Pain, Go Away_? _Curse Your Curse: How Healing Made Dark Magic Inconsequential? Comforting the Comfortless? The Heart and its Disorders: Cardiovascular to Psychosomatic?_ What do you two think?”

They didn’t appear to think much of anything—not about that, at least. Bathilda moved over to curl up next to the empty hot chocolate mug. King made a nest in Scorpius’s hair. Scorpius reached for _The Heart and its Disorders: Cardiovascular to Psychosomatic._

“I’ll start here and work my way backwards,” he told the Pygmies.

He only meant to read one or two chapters, but before he knew it, he was two-thirds of the way done and he’d fallen asleep sitting up. He stirred slightly as the sound of voices filled the room, but not enough to wake fully. He felt somebody grab him underneath his arms.

“I’ve got him,” James whispered. “Nora, will you get the Pygmy Puffs—oh, yeah, be careful of the yellow one, it’s a bit wild.”

Scorpius’s head lolled tiredly onto James’s shoulder. He felt like he was gliding as James carried him somewhere. He dropped lightly onto a comfortable bed a moment later. He heard the Pygmy Puffs squeak as they joined him on the bed. A blanket settled over him a moment later.

“Do you think what the Minister said is true?” somebody asked. It was a girl’s voice, but Scorpius had no idea who she was.

“Almost certainly. Regardless, it’s worth keeping in mind, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Though McGonagall was quite firm that we’re to _exclusively remain_ an inter-house ‘communication club’.”

“And we are. But if we see somebody about to get Crucio’ed in the corridors, of course we’ll have to do something.”

“Right. She seems to think the worst is over.”

“Somebody always thinks that,” James said. His voice sounded uncharacteristically grave. “I think Luna was right. The perfect amount of time has passed; the war was far enough away that a new generation with no memories of the horrors of it are coming to age, but it’s still close enough that the sting of losing loved ones is still present.”

“Which leads to these reckless, angry young people,” Nora said softly.

“Exactly. Who clearly don’t care who they hurt. I mean—what Neville heard Avery saying about my _brother_ …”

James broke off, his voice thick.

“He’s not collateral damage,” James finished fiercely.

“Of course he isn’t.” Evvie. “Don’t let it upset you. That’s what Avery would want. He’s disgusting.”

“I don’t _want_ to fight anybody. I don’t _want_ to hurt anybody,” James continued. “But I’m so _tired_ of worrying about my family.”

“Me too,” Louis Weasley said sadly. “After I saw that _Evening Prophet_ at dinner…I couldn’t eat. I felt so sick. What if they’d gotten somebody in our family? It’d be so easy. They could wait for my dad or mum to walk out of Gringotts…or Uncle Ron or George to walk from their shop…or your mum to walk from the Ministry…or Victoire to walk from St. Mungo’s…” 

“Can we talk about something else?” a girl pleaded, her voice soft. “C’mon—we’ve done all we can tonight. Let’s go back to our dorms and get some sleep. Torturing ourselves with what-ifs isn’t kind. Who’s staying here for watch tonight?”

“Bec, Sara, and Nora, right?”

“Right,” three girls chorused.

“All right. Meet back here before breakfast and during lunch. James?”

“Yeah?”

“If it all gets to be too much…you know, considering your family’s at the heart of all this…don’t be afraid to take a step back. We know how stressful this is. Nobody expects you to do it on your own.”

“Oh, but I’m not alone,” James said, surprised. “I’ve got all of you—and I’m the luckiest for it.”

* * *

 

Scorpius couldn’t believe it was only Thursday.

It had been the longest week of his life. Sunday morning at the Potters house seemed to have been decades ago, rather than a few days. He felt exhausted and drained. The Divination professor caught onto that easily during his first class that day.

“Mr. Malfoy, what is troubling you?”

Slytherins and Ravenclaws alike pivoted to stare at Scorpius. In his exhaustion, he couldn’t find it in him to do anything but be brutally honest.

“Well, my best friend was nearly fatally attacked, so there’s a decent start,” he snapped.

“Mr. Potter will pull through and he’ll be stronger than before. The boy born beneath Scorpius, intertwined with the boy named after that same constellation, cursed and un-cursed, born to a cursed and un-cursed father and a mother wielding the loyalty of Leo—”

“ _Ooh_ , is she making a Prophecy?” somebody blurted excitedly.

“No. I am not. I’m merely retelling the predictions I made whilst pouring over tea leaves yesterday in a poetic fashion fit for my subject, please do keep up.” 

“Oh,” somebody else muttered, disappointed.

“Carrying on. Try not to fret, Mr. Malfoy. He will be all right. You won’t, however, on your O.W.L.s, if you don’t _focus_.”

“I want to do well on my exams,” Scorpius blurted immediately.

“Then _focus_! Get out your dream diaries and pair up.”

 _Great_. Scorpius pulled his out and looked around the room hopefully, but everybody was already falling into their typical pairs, leaving Scorpius alone. He locked eyes with his dormmate Sig; he was already paired up with Omri, but he pointed at the third chair, a questioning look in place. Before Scorpius could rise to join them, his professor sat down across from him.

“Hi, Professor Gantha,” Scorpius said miserably. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to move closer to the table Saul was at. Malcolm was paired with him but didn’t look too happy about it; Saul had been avoiding everybody’s eyes all lesson, and everybody had been avoiding his.

“Hello again, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s see your dream diary. Here’s mine.” She slid a beautifully detailed book across the table towards Scorpius. Its cover was soft like silk and seemed to encompass every shade of the rainbow. Scorpius opened it to the marked spot and found the proper date. _I dreamt I was riding in a crocodile’s mouth through a jungle river…on and on it wound…on every bank, something howled or screamed or chittered, and I remember thinking ‘do not stop, do not stop, do not go to the river bank” and on and on I went…convinced that to stop would be to die…even though I was already in the crocodile’s mouth._

His professor was still reading over his entry, so he grabbed his textbook. Crocodiles. Okay. Crocodiles symbolized hidden danger— _no surprise there_ , Scorpius thought. He kept reading. A crocodile crossing your path horizontally meant a hidden power would soon be realized. A crocodile swimming alongside you meant you had an enemy in a friend. A crocodile in a river meant danger was about to come to fruition...

“Interesting dreams, Mr. Malfoy. You seem to shift through many.”

“Yeah, lately I have.”

“Anxiety will do that. What did you make of my dream?”

“Well, a crocodile in a river means a hidden danger will soon be known, so that’s not exactly very reassuring, sorry about that…a rushing river represents trouble brewing…I was just about to look up apathy to danger.”

“You’ll find it represents burgeoning feelings of self-hatred,” Professor Gantha said flippantly. “My third time having this same dream this week—never a positive sign, no?”

“Definitely not.”

“Your dreams are more interesting that mine, in my expert opinion.”

Scorpius blinked. “Mine? No, they’re just…flashes. Random things. I don’t think I remembered even a fourth of them…”

She lifted his journal up but kept her voice quiet, so none of the conversing students around could hear them.

“A good portion of these are blatant anxiety dreams—wandering the halls of Hogwarts alone, turning up to Potions without your book, waking up to discover it’s time for your O.W.L.s and you can’t even remember the year—but some of these are intriguing. The room with hundreds of shelves full of glass bottles without corks. The hourglass full of smoke. Mr. Potter vomiting flames. Your mother forgetting your name. Mr. Potter sleeping in a broken hospital cot—”

“Don’t!” Scorpius exclaimed quickly. He’d forgotten, but as she listed off the things he’d immediately written about upon waking, he felt his skin crawling. Flashes from the nightmares bombarded him. They left him feeling disturbed, though he wasn’t sure why. “They make me feel bad.”

“Because they’re not good,” his professor explained lightly. “You’ve interpreted the anxiety dreams and you’ve read way too much into them. Sometimes a dream is just a dream—oh, but don’t tell your classmates that, mind you; they have to assume all dreams are important because they haven’t yet learnt how to tell the difference. But while you’ve read too much into some, you haven’t said a word about the rest. Because they make you uncomfortable?”

“They’re frightening.”

“Not an excuse. Give it a go. Go on. Start with the easiest one first. Which one frightened you least?

“Okay…well. The glass bottles. They had liquid in them. Different colors, some were smoking, some were misting—you get the idea. They were really, really important. I was supposed to cork them all. But there were no corks in any of them, and no corks in the room. So…I’m going to…come up short at a very important task?”

She smiled. “Yes, you could easily explain and support that interpretation. Or, alternatively, you _fear_ you’ll come up short at a very critical moment. Glass vessels of any size or shape represent fragile opportunities.”

“What critical moment?” he wondered aloud.

“Alas—we often don’t know until the moment is already upon us.”

Not very reassuring. Scorpius left the classroom that day feeling uneasy. After he descended the ladder, he sensed somebody following him. He glanced around nervously, but it was just Sig, Omri following shortly after.

“Hey, Malfoy, where were you last night?” Sig wondered.

“Oh…I stayed at home again,” Scorpius lied, his eyes shifting back to the floor.

“Probably for the better. You missed a fight.”

Scorpius looked up at Omri, surprised. “What? What happened?”

“Well,” Omri began, lowering his voice to a whisper, “some sixth years were bragging about Dark Magic in the Common Room. And that hasn’t happened in the entire time I’ve been here, same for most other students, so people were really shocked. Sig told him to shut up because first years were listening, a couple others—including me—came by to back him up, and it turned into this massive duel. We broke the skulls on the mantel.”

Scorpius furrowed his brow. “But they’re unbreakable.”

“Yeah…apparently not if dozens of jinxes and hexes are flying off of them.”

“Was anybody injured?”

“No, some seventh years intervened,” Sig reassured Scorpius. “The funniest thing was—” he fell quiet abruptly. Scorpius glanced around, confused. Saul was passing by, his book held tightly to his chest, fifth year Slytherin Claire Theva walking alongside him. Sig waited until he’d left earshot. “All of Carrow’s mates’ underwear and socks went missing yesterday.”

Scorpius had to force himself to gape as if he’d never heard that before.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Everybody thinks it was Albus’s brother.”

“It wasn’t,” Scorpius said quickly. “He…he’s got special lessons with McGonagall during every break and he wouldn’t skive off classes.”

“Hmm,” Omri said. He didn’t look convinced.

“Are they talking about retaliating against him? James Potter?” Scorpius pressed.

“They did,” Sig said, surprised. “I thought you knew, with you dating Albus and all.”

“What?!” Scorpius exclaimed. He stopped walking. His heart had plummeted. “Is he okay? No. No—the Potters can’t—what happened?”

“Those idiots were talking about it this morning. Apparently, they tried to curse him outside of Gryffindor Tower late last night. Either their Cruciatus missed or Potter took it without flinching…” Omri began laughing again. “Then one of them threatened to _kill_ him, of all the stupid things. And apparently, Potter scoffed at them and said ‘You’ll have to do better than that if you want to kill a Potter, or haven’t you learned that by now? We’re not exactly easy to kill’. Well, what he said really shook Carrow’s friends—I guess they were thinking about the fact that Harry Potter withstood the killing curse twice and Albus this new killing curse and didn’t like their odds—so they turned and fled. You should’ve seen how red their faces were.”

Scorpius tried to keep his laughter to a minimum, but it was no use. He laughed and laughed, far past the point that Omri and Sig were laughing. They looked at him oddly.

“Sorry,” Scorpius finally said. “It’s just—if you _knew_ James—well, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Hey, if you talk to him sometimes, you should tell him to be careful,” Sig told Scorpius. “Just because he can protect himself doesn’t mean they won’t aim for the people he loves.”

Scorpius stopped laughing completely. He thought of Lily, Hugo, Nora, Rose. All capable witches and wizards, but if they were teamed up on by a group of evil Dark witches and wizards?

“They wouldn’t,” he said uneasily.

“I think they would. Sig and I were talking about it this morning…it’s almost like Carrow…I dunno, broke a seal. There were so many students waiting to crawl out of hiding at the first sign of open Dark Magic. It’s like once Carrow did it, everybody became brave enough to try, too.”

“People are so _angry_ ,” Sig added, in a voice that clearly demonstrated his shock. “Really hostile. It makes me wonder where the government went wrong following the Second Wizarding War. You would’ve thought…well, don’t take this the wrong way, Malfoy, I know your family’s… _close_ with the Potters now—”

Scorpius sighed. He hadn’t missed Sig’s inflection or the smirk he briefly shared with Omri. “My dad is _not_ sleeping with Mrs. Potter. If you knew them both, you’d know why that idea is absurd.”

Omri and Sig exchanged an amused look. “Sure, Scorpius. Anyway. Not to talk ill of the Potters, but you’d think Harry Potter would’ve done a better job following the war.”

Scorpius hadn’t expected himself to bristle as much as he did. He guessed he really _had_ somewhat claimed the Potters as his own.

“That’s not fair. He was seventeen. What do you mean?”

“Well, you know. He of all people must know what being an orphan because of a war feels like. How alone and angry one can feel. A lot of these Death Eaters’ kids…they grew up without one or both parents. They grew up in abusive homes or neglectful care homes. It’s not an excuse, I know that…look at Iset Goyle or Rowle’s kid in third year…their home lives are probably as dysfunctional as they can get and they’re not cursing people. But still…had efforts been made…maybe all of this could’ve been avoided.”

* * *

 

Rose met him outside of Hagrid’s hut a few minutes before their Care of Magical Creatures lesson began.

“Hello,” she greeted. “Cut lunch early, too?”

“Hi,” Scorpius said. She’d sat with him in their shared lessons yesterday, but he hadn’t been sure she still would today. He was relieved. “Yeah. People were staring. Dormmates were starting political and social debates. I didn’t like it.”

“It was the same at the Gryffindor table. Roxanne nearly hexed somebody.” Rose walked over and sat on the bottom step outside of Hagrid’s hut. Scorpius hesitated for one moment and then walked over to sit beside her. They didn’t speak for a long moment. “How was Al last night?”

“Great! Good. They gave him muggle medicine and it finally stopped the pain.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

A shared silence.

“Do you…” Rose trailed off. She cleared her throat and then pushed forward. “I mean. It must be difficult, right? Seeing him like that? Everybody said it was _awful_ …I can’t imagine. My dad said in his last letter that this is the first time he’s _ever_ seen both Uncle Harry _and_ Aunt Ginny crying at the same time…must have been frightening. Not the crying. Albus, I mean.”

Scorpius looked down at his knees. He wrapped his arms around his middle. “I’ve never been so frightened in my entire life.”

Another silence. Rose seemed to be out of social tact.

“So what did you think of the Charms essay?” she asked.

He was glad for the topic change. “I was a bit lost…probably didn’t help that I tried to do it all over breakfast...”

Tentatively, they worked together on their Charms work until Hagrid came out of his hut and class began. They walked together to their shared Charms class afterwards. They didn’t say much, but it was a start, and Scorpius really needed a friend.

* * *

 

Right before his last lesson of the day began, somebody sat in Albus’s empty seat. Professor Binns didn’t seem to notice that Iset Goyle had suddenly taken Albus Potter’s seat.

“How are you?” she immediately asked Scorpius, her eyes soft with concern.

Scorpius hadn’t been asked that all day. He was floored by a sudden onslaught of emotions. How was he? He wasn’t sure he had the capacity to answer it.

“I don’t know. Okay, I think. You? Your bruise is nearly gone.”

“Oh, yeah! Roxanne Weasley gave me this brilliant cream during lunch—another application and it should be gone.”

Scorpius lowered his voice as Binns began the lecture. Ordinarily, he’d never be caught dead talking during History of Magic, but this was important.

“Did you see what happened to that ex-Auror yesterday?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, after a quick, concerned glance towards their professor. “It’s horrible.”

When he glanced at her, she certainly seemed upset about it. Her eyes were damp and she was nervously fidgeting with her quill. Scorpius wondered if she’d known the man who died.

They lapsed into silence as they took notes. At the end of class, Iset began gathering her items very slowly. Scorpius did the same.

“Are you going to dinner?” she asked him.

“No—Professor Potter’s office.”

“Oh. Want to walk to the staircases together?”

“Sure.”

He thought maybe she was frightened to walk alone, but it turned out to be something entirely different. She stopped to speak a few minutes into their walk. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Your dad. He’s…out of _that world_ , right? He doesn’t have anything to do with the Dark Arts anymore.”

“Right. No, he doesn’t.” Scorpius affirmed. He looked down at her. He frowned. “Why? Does…does yours?”

She looked up. “Don’t tell anybody. Promise that you won’t.”

He was taken aback. He stuttered.

“A secret? Me? Oh! Don’t you—I mean, not that I don’t want to be confided in, but this sounds like a big, big, big, _big_ secret, and I feel as if that sort of secret is better suited for one of your best mates, you know, they’re probably loads better at comforting than I am and—”

“I don’t want to be comforted. I want to be understood.”

Scorpius hesitated. He pulled uncomfortably on his robes.

“…I’ll do my best.”

“You won’t tell?”

“Not unless you’re about to tell me something like, I don’t know…that you’ve got a murderer waiting in your dorm to kill you… _that_ I will take _straight_ to Professor Potter.”

He laughed. When she didn’t join him, it trailed off awkwardly. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her dark eyes shone behind a film of anxious, frightened tears.

“Nevermind,” she said suddenly. She pursed her lips. She blinked rapidly against her tears. She adjusted her bag. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve…it was rude to assume that…I’m sorry.”

Before Scorpius could argue, she’d turned on her heel and headed quickly in the opposite direction.

“That’s not the way to the Great Hall?” Scorpius called after her. She kept walking.

* * *

 

Albus was sitting propped up against his pillows when Scorpius entered that evening, burdened by his own school bag and Albus’s.

“Albus, Albusy Albus, Albus Potter,” he sang. “Have I got a gift for you!”

“Is it one of those lemon tarts your house elves make?” Albus asked hopefully.

“No—homework!”

Scorpius let Albus’s bag drop to the foot of Albus’s bed. Albus glowered. It probably wasn’t meant to be endearing, but it was. Scorpius grinned and sat beside the bag.

“How are you feeling?” he asked him.

“Great…except for the fact that my boyfriend brought me _homework_. Traitor.” Scorpius kept grinning. Albus continued. “Pain’s more or less gone; I’m still full of muggle drugs. I stopped pissing blood which was an exciting development! And tell him the _best_ news, Mum!”

Ginny came to stand beside the bed. She pulled Scorpius into a brief hug and then reached for her son’s school bag. She replied as she pulled Albus’s homework planner free from inside of it.

“Albus ate an entire slice of toast and didn’t vomit it back up!”

Pain-free _and_ able to eat real food— it was more than Scorpius could’ve hoped for. He bounced a bit on the bed, unable to contain his excitement.

“Nicely done, Albus!” he cried. He spun around and pushed his palm forwards. Albus grinned back and met his high-five.

“It was _wonderful…_ ” Albus said, his eyes going a bit dreamy.

“I’m sure the not-weeing-blood part was nice as well,” Scorpius said fairly.

“Oh, yeah, that was. It was definitely nice.”

“Some other good news,” Ginny continued. She was still rifling through Albus’s homework planner. “Wait, I just need to say—Scorpius, this is _remarkably_ neat, you should show Hermione, she’d cry tears of joy. I wish you could write down Al’s homework every day. Anyway. The phoenix tears should be here by the end of the week. And if everything goes according to plan, Albus should be healed enough to be back at school soon.” She looked up. “All right, Al. Which should we start with first? You’ve got something to do in nearly every subject.”

Albus looked beside himself with joy. “You’re going to help me with my homework?!”

“Of course. We all can. We don’t want you getting behind. I’ll help with Charms. Your dad’s clearly got Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lily can help with Potions, James with Transfiguration, Scorpius with History of Magic, and the rest seems fairly self-explanatory. Dream diaries! Your Divination professor’s going to enjoy reading your morphine-induced dreams, Albus.”

“Yeah…I won’t be writing those down anytime soon. I’ll make something up. You and Dad can help; you love things like that.”

Scorpius clapped his hands together. “A homework party! I’m beyond elated. I’m _euphoric_!”

They had dinner (courtesy of Molly Weasley again and better than Hogwarts food), Ginny conjured a long table and six armchairs, and James helped half-carry Albus over to a seat. Albus sighed happily as Ginny summoned all his books to land in front of him.

“It feels _amazing_ to be out of that bed. Mum, when can I leave the ward?”

“Soon I hope. The Healers just want to make sure the bleeding’s entirely under control before you venture too far. What do you want to start with?”

Albus leaned over his homework planner. He grimaced.

“Arg—the Charms essay. That looks horrible.”

“Rose and I spent thirty minutes trying to finalize ours before class today,” Scorpius told Albus. “It was a nightmare.”

“The topic’s not that bad,” Ginny told them reassuringly. Albus exchanged a dubious look with Scorpius, but after only a few minutes, he seemed to have caught on. They moved onto Potions—Lily had a bit more fun than she ought to have had creating a mnemonic device for remembering the properties of moonstone—and then James took over. To Scorpius’s slight surprise, James was _extremely_ clever; he explained what they were learning in Transfiguration better than their Transfiguration professor did, his eyes alight as he did so. Scorpius got to reenact the first of the Giant Wars—Albus wrote his essay quicker than Scorpius had ever seen afterwards, laughing hysterically through most of it—and then Harry returned. He wasn’t alone.

“Neville! Hannah!” Lily cried, elated. She shot from her chair and hurried over, throwing her arms around Neville. He hugged her affectionately.

“Hello, Potters and Scorpius!” Neville walked over. Ginny conjured two more armchairs. Neville fell down in the seat beside hers and pulled Mrs. Potter into a tight hug.

“How are you holding up?” Scorpius heard him whisper softly.

“All right, now that Al’s doing better,” Ginny assured him.

Hannah leaned over the back of Ginny’s armchair and hugged her closely from above. Harry finished hugging Albus and pulled Scorpius into a quick hug as well. Scorpius was so stunned that he forgot to hug back, but Harry didn’t seem to notice; he crossed over to kiss Ginny a moment later. Neville faced Albus and Scorpius.

“Albus, I was supposed to visit yesterday evening, but you were sleeping for most of it. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Albus nodded. “Much better, anyway. Still can’t walk very well—the Healers say it’s because my circulation is really damaged because, well, _everything_ is damaged, heart included—but it should improve.”

Neville slid a wrapped gift across the table.

“For you,” he said, and then to his friend: “Sorry, Ginny.”

“No, you’re not,” Ginny teased. Neville grinned back nervously.

“No, not really,” he admitted. “A boy deserves chocolate after an experience like that.”

“Well, now you’ve told me what it is, Neville!” Albus complained. He ripped the paper away anyway. He grinned when he spotted the box of assorted Honeydukes chocolates. “Thank you, Neville. Thanks, Hannah!”

Hannah reached across the table and took Albus’s hand. She smiled sweetly at him.

“Anything for you. We’re just so glad that you’re okay.”

Albus smiled back after a moment, so sheepish that it nearly looked pained. Scorpius knew he was probably beginning to feel overwhelmed by the outpour of emotion coming from nearly everybody he knew.

Neville helped Albus with his Herbology homework, but it was slow work, with jokes and conversation interrupting the process frequently. The topic of the Sevens came up, and Albus spent a while demanding to know every detail about James’s most recent endeavor. Lily was beside herself with outrage.

“It’s rubbish!” she complained to anybody who would listen.

“It’s not! It’s only seventh years, Lily; I can’t spend every night worrying about my baby sister—”

“It’s not only seventh years! Roxanne joined!”

“Only because Mum made me let her.”

“Mum, make him let _me_!”

“Lulu, you’re thirteen.”

“So?!”

“So you’re too young,” Harry said, backing Ginny.

“I am _not_! I don’t—you just—I can’t believe my own _brother_ —I’m going to make my _own_ gang! We’ll be the _Threes_! And we’ll be more successful than you are!”

“Fine, do it. But I don’t know who you’d get to join, who would sponsor you, where you’d meet…” James trilled off.

“Neville and Dad would! Right?” Lily demanded, pinning her pleading eyes on Neville and Harry. They immediately nodded. “I have loads of friends who would join! And I know loads of places we could meet! And I’ll let anybody who’s kind and brave join no matter their year!”

“All right, Lulu. Go for it,” James said. “You did manage to steal underpants from loads of angry Slytherins, so who am I to underestimate you?”

“Hmph,” Lily said haughtily.  

“What? What’s this about pants? Whose pants?” Harry asked sharply. Ginny reached up and patted his cheek.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk with her about it later. What happened at the Ministry meeting?”

“Well…” Harry said. “McGonagall was there. She said Hogwarts is starting a new security measure in the morning, thought you four might like an advance warning. They’re going to start doing daily and random wand checks to see what the past thirty spells cast by each person were. It’ll happen nightly and immediately following any attacks. As long as students are getting hit with Unforgivables, McGonagall said there will be no leniency. What happened to Clementine Clearwater is unacceptable.”

Scorpius wondered briefly whether James had told his parents about _his_ attack. Judging by the fact that his parents looked relatively relaxed, he guessed not.

“But what’s stopping somebody from quickly doing thirty Scourgifies before a wand check?” James wondered.

“Somebody would notice them frantically casting spells. It’s enough to warrant questioning the student.”

“It’s a start,” Ginny said. “It won’t be enough to stop this—but it’s a start.”

Scorpius was beginning to feel overwhelmed because he couldn’t even guess what _would_ be enough to stop this. It seemed to have already gotten out of hand in only a few days’ time. Scorpius thought about how frightened Iset Goyle had looked. It was probably getting worse than anybody in that room even _knew_ yet. He wanted to talk to Albus about it, but instinctively he knew he shouldn’t say anything about it to the adults yet. He nudged Albus from beneath the table. He pulled Albus’s homework planner in front of himself and scrawled a quick note onto it. _See if we can go to the tea room._

“Mum,” Albus said immediately. “Can I _please, please_ go to the tea room with Scorpius? I’m sick of lying in the bed like an invalid. I’ll only be right down the corridor…if I start to bleed, Scorpius will run right here. Please?”

Ginny hesitated. “I dunno, Al. You’ve been feeling so much better. I wouldn’t want to risk that by allowing you to push yourself too far.”

“It’s not too far! _Please_.”

She looked at Harry. “What do you think?”

He frowned. “Well, I suppose right down the corridor wouldn’t hurt…but _nowhere else, Albus_!”

Albus was already struggling to stand from the armchair. He managed to stand, but he fell back down a moment later.

“Still can’t really feel my legs when I stand,” he complained. “Pins and needles.”

“I’ll get a wheelchair,” Ginny said.

Once Albus was seated comfortably in a wheelchair, Scorpius wheeled him and his IV stand ( _it was on wheels! Muggles think of everything!)_ down to the other end of the corridor, with the Potter parents watching anxiously from the ward doorway. Scorpius carefully shut the door to the tea room behind them, glad that nobody else was in there.

“What’s going on?” Albus asked him immediately.

Scorpius launched into an explanation about the weird encounter he had with Iset. He made tea while he did, and by the time he finished, their tea was ready. He carried a mug to Albus and then rolled him over to face the sofa, so they were looking at each other when Scorpius sat.

“This doesn’t seem good. Do you think Goyle’s the one who killed that man?”

“I don’t know. I always got the impression that Goyle wasn’t very clever…I’m not sure he’d have the initiative to do it nor the brains to pull it off. I’m worried about something else. I’m worried that Goyle is somehow…threatening Iset. Maybe to get her to go along with Dark Magic?”

“No offense intended…I know you and Iset are sort of friends now…but…I can’t imagine anyone wanting Iset on their side of darkness. Wasn’t she that Hufflepuff that cried nonstop for the first two weeks of first year?”

Scorpius furrowed his brow. “Oh, yeah, perhaps. I think her cat died on the train, though.”

“Oh,” Albus said. “Right. Forgot about that.”

“You do have a point, though. I’m not sure what she’d be expected to contribute to a clan of Death Eaters.”

“You never know, Scorpius. Perhaps she’s got a great knack for the Dark Arts.”

Albus was teasing, but Scorpius didn’t laugh, because he knew that was entirely possible. Just because somebody _chose_ to be one way didn’t mean they didn’t have the ability to be the opposite.

“I might talk to James and his friends about it,” Scorpius considered. “They could at least keep an eye out, in case she’s in trouble or gets _up to_ trouble.”

“Couldn’t hurt. Ugh. I’m just so tired of being ill. So much is happening and I’m stuck here, in pain, being treated like a six-year-old with severe dragonpox. I can’t wait to be back. I can’t wait until we can be _alone_. I feel like I had more privacy as a fetus. My parents are _beyond_ fussy. My dad came by for lunch—that’s when I managed to eat that slice of toast—and he actually _cut the toast up into pieces,_ Scorpius. Like I was two years old!”

Scorpius laughed loudly, amused. Albus continued.

“My mum seems to think leaving my side for even thirty minutes is a grand betrayal, probably one fit for execution. They’re going mad and they’re driving _me_ mad.”

“They were really scared, though,” Scorpius said fairly. “We all were.”

“I know. I guess I’d just…well. You know. I’d like more time with you. Just you.”

Scorpius grinned. He leaned forward and patted Albus’s cheek. “You just want to snog me, Flirty Albus. You’re whining about your doting parents because you want time alone to _snog me_!”

Albus matched Scorpius’s grin. “Yeah, so what?”

“So I agree. I would very much like you to get your privacy back because we’ve got _loads_ of snogging time to make up for.”

Albus cocked an eyebrow. “Well, there’s my incentive to mend,” he bent forward and directed his words to his torso. “ _Heal_! Heal _faster_!”

“That’s definitely going to work. Good thinking.”

“Couldn’t _hurt_ , could it?” Albus countered.

“No. But following that logic, kissing it better also couldn’t hurt.” Naughty Scorpius returned. Not the best time, but Scorpius wasn’t complaining.

Albus wheeled himself closer. Scorpius tapped his feet in delighted anticipation. He squirmed, beamed, and set his hands on Albus’s thighs the minute he was close enough. He’d been wanting to touch him for hours; it’d been a nagging thought at the back of his mind. He’d _thought_ indulging it would silence that thought, but instead, it only made it louder. Albus captured Scorpius’s lips. Scorpius kissed him happily, leisurely, his mind focused entirely on the task at hand: his boyfriend. Kissing him when he was in a wheelchair was annoying; they’d both overlooked putting the brake down, so Albus kept rolling backwards every time Scorpius kissed him harder, and he’d have to move his hands from Albus’s body to grasp the wheelchair and pull it closer again. Scorpius was considering helping Albus out of the chair and over to the sofa when the door—of course—opened.

They _were_ in a public area, but Scorpius was getting _really_ fed up with the interruptions.

Albus broke their kiss and slid back into his seat, his cheeks flushing. Scorpius looked towards the doorway. James waved.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he greeted. “But Mum says it’s time for more Muggle druggies, Al. Well, she didn’t word it like that, but you get it. C’mon.”

Albus groaned. James ignored him. He walked over and grabbed the wheelchair and did a precarious twist around towards the door. Albus immediately leaned forward and slammed his feet to the floor, resisting.

“I want to stay.”

“Al,” James scoffed. “You _have_ to have more medicine. Don’t make me carry this wheelchair! Really, don’t. It’ll hurt.”

Albus looked back around at Scorpius. Scorpius sighed.

“It’ll get worse and worse the longer you wait,” he told Albus. “You’ve got to. It could get bad again if you don’t.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Albus sighed. “Back to prison. Roll me, Jamie.”

James sank into an immediate, dramatic bow. “Yes sir, Mr. Potter, sir.”

Scorpius walked beside the wheelchair and rolled the IV cart. When they entered the room, Scorpius found somebody new in there. Dean Thomas. He was in a deep conversation with Harry in a corner—it didn’t look to be going very well, judging by their furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. Scorpius perched on Albus’s bed as Ginny and Victoire got him settled for another round of pain medication. By the time they were done, Harry was, too. He turned around and stared incredulously at James.

“You got hit by the Cruciatus and you _didn’t tell me_?!” Harry demanded.

James held up his thumb and index finger so they were about an inch apart. “Just a bit. A little one.”

“ _What_?!” Ginny yelped. She spun around to face James. “What do you mean _just a bit_?! Why didn’t you tell us? James Sirius Potter!”

“Ginevra Molly Potter!” James shot back. Ginny dropped her hand from her hip and leveled a cool glare James’s way. He immediately backtracked. “…Mum. Mummy. Mother of mine.”

“James, this is serious!” Harry persisted. “Dean says Nora said—”

“Dean, you’re supposed to be my mate!” James complained.

“We’re not mates, James. You’re dating my daughter.”

“So? We could still be mates! Think of all the laughs we’ve had! You snitched on me!”

“I was concerned about your safety and Nora’s.”

“James, are you okay?” Ginny persisted.

“I’m entirely okay! It wasn’t that bad, Mum.”

“Somebody _tortured_ you!”

“We’ve got to talk about this,” Harry said, horrified. “Right now. We’ve got to go talk to McGonagall and Hermione about this.”

“No! This is why I didn’t tell you two yet.”

“You’re our son! Somebody used an Unforgivable on you! Of course we’re having this reaction!” Ginny exclaimed.

“But I’m _fine_ , Mum, it’s not like what happened to _Al,_ it’s not that bad—!”

“IT COULD HAVE BEEN!”

Ginny seemed to regret raising her voice a half-second after she’d finished speaking. Her eyes sparkled with angry tears. She looked away and blinked a few times. James walked over immediately and hugged her.

“I’m all right, Mum, _really_ ,” he said, not the least bit fazed.

“I’m not. I’m not all right with this. _I’m not_ all right with another one of my children being tortured. Your dad is right. We’ve got to go talk to Hermione and Professor McGonagall. Somebody needs to be held accountable for this.”

Scorpius and Albus exchanged a wide-eyed look. Harry and Ginny approached them a moment later.

“Al,” Harry said. “I’ll be back in an hour. Do you need anything before we go?”

“Victoire’s shift doesn’t end until midnight, so call for her _immediately_ if you need something,” Ginny added. “Are you okay with me leaving, too? Do you want me to stay?”

“No!” Albus said quickly. “Er, I mean…I’ll be all right, Mum. I’ll manage. It’s only an hour, right? And Vic’s here.”

“Right. Are you feeling okay? How’s the pain?”

“It’s probably a…four!” Scorpius could tell Albus was lying, and Ginny could, too. She arched an eyebrow. “Okay, well, a five or six. But that’s loads better than a ten out of ten like it was before. You can go, really, Mum. It’s okay. Scorpius is here.”

Ginny hesitated. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. Bye, Mum, Dad, James, Dean.”

“Bye!” Scorpius told them.

Harry marched James to the door. Ginny didn’t move. Harry glanced back.

“Gin.”

She hesitated. Harry walked back over and took her hand.

“He’ll be okay. We’ll be right back.”

“Right. You’re right. Bye, Al. Bye, Scorpius. Bye, Lily.”

She walked back towards the door with Harry.

“Lily, don’t you even _think_ about leaving this hospital,” Harry told Lily firmly. She gave him a thumbs-up.

They were _almost_ alone. Almost. Albus and Scorpius exchanged a heavy look. Albus cleared his throat and looked towards the sofa along the far wall, where Lily was working on homework.

“Lily. I’ll give you five galleons if you go do your homework elsewhere.”

Lily didn’t even look up. “Make it ten galleons so I can buy a pumpkin tart and you’ve got a deal.”

“Pumpkin tarts aren’t ten galleons,” Albus said, confused.

“Oh, I know. I just want to make sure I’m making at least eight galleons after the pumpkin tart.”

Albus shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got money in my school bag near your feet. Ten galleons it is. But you have to stay away for at least forty minutes.”

“Easy,” she said. She rooted around Albus’s bag, pulled his bursting coin purse out (still full with the bet money from that summer they’d yet to spend), and extracted her money. “Great, bye! Have fun!”

“But you can’t leave the hospital!” Albus yelled quickly after her. “Lily! Dad said you can’t leave St. Mungo’s!”

She was already out of the door. Albus frowned.

“Do you think she heard me?”

“Definitely. Whether or not she’ll listen is another matter…” Scorpius said.

“I’m sure Teddy’s around, he usually is. She’s probably just going to see him,” Albus reasoned.

Scorpius cared, but maybe not as much as he usually did in the current moment. He was too busy staring at Albus’s lips. His heart was thudding again. Familiar words were running through his mind on loop. He wanted desperately to give them life. This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to be brave. Maybe _this_ was the fragile opportunity his Divination professor had mentioned. He wouldn’t fall short.

“Albus?” he said.

“Yeah?”

His choking affection returned. “I—I really…”

“You really…want to kiss me?” Albus suggested.

“ _Yes_ , but also…I really…see, I’ve been trying to tell you since yesterday…probably longer…and I’ve always felt this way but lately, it’s become different and…it’s not so much the same kind that I felt before…and…”

Albus leaned forward and pressed his lips to Scorpius’s, breaking off his struggling words. He kissed him once, firmly, his fingers sinking into Scorpius’s hair, and then he leaned back. His eyes were intense again; Scorpius’s stomach jumped in response.

“I really love you loads,” Albus said.

Just like that. Easy. Scorpius blinked as the words processed. And then he flung himself at Albus, enveloping him in a hug so tight and exuberant that it could only be described as a _Potter hug_. Albus crashed back onto the mattress, laughing, and Scorpius pressed his mouth to Albus’s before he’d even finished laughing. He kissed his lips, then his cheek, then his forehead, then his nose, then his jaw. Albus was still laughing in amused, quick bursts.

“I—love— _you_!” Scorpius exclaimed in disbelief. “I—Scorpius—love—love- _love-love_ —you—Albus—”

“Yeah, I know,” Albus reassured him. Scorpius kissed his grin. “You’ve been saying it without saying it for days. It was adorable.”

“No, I don’t think you _understand_!” Scorpius cried, beside himself with joy. He propped up and looked down at Albus. “I _love_ you! That’s the word! The word that fits! That’s the word I couldn’t find!”

A crashing wave of affection. A kiss that burned. Scorpius thought he may have been kissing him better, after all.

* * *

 

Harry and Ginny stopped in the doorway, horrified.

“ _What_ in the _world_ happened?!” Ginny demanded. The bags in her hands fell to the floor. “I was gone for an _hour_!”

“Hi, Mum,” Albus said sheepishly. Victoire was healing the torn wound at the crook of his elbow. Scorpius was staring down at the blood on the bed with muted horror. The IV lines were sadly dripping onto the floor. Scorpius had learned something important: snogging (and perhaps a bit more) with somebody who had an IV was not a good idea. Especially if that person still tended to gush blood at any opportunity. Especially if both parties weren’t really used to the limitations of an IV line.

“What happened?” Harry asked Victoire. Ginny came to the bedside and began Scourgifying blood from the bedding and their clothing.

“Albus…accidentally…ripped his IV out of his arm,” Victoire said. “But it’s okay. The bleeding will probably stop.”

“Probably?” Harry echoed. “Albus, how did you manage to tear it out hard enough to cause _this_?”

He gestured at the blood still pulsating from the wound. Albus avoided his dad’s eyes.

“Er…”

“I’m sorry!” Scorpius blurted, torn apart by guilt. He slapped his right hand over his mouth a second later. And then he slapped his left hand over his right. “Sorry! It’s my fault!” his words were muffled.

“ _Sorry_ …what are you sorry for, Scorpius? How could you be responsible for…” Harry trailed off as Ginny stepped on his foot. “What? Why did—”

Ginny cleared her throat lightly. Scorpius stared hard at the mattress, his face bright red. Albus was surely doing the same. Harry seemed to register their embarrassment.

“Ohh. Oh. Er. That’s…okay, Scorpius.”

Scorpius lowered his hands, desperate for the Potters to understand. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him! The opposite! I mean! I didn’t think that—! The IV cart was not mobile this time! And when he—his arms went—the tube went—pop! Blood! Everywhere! I didn’t think that _that_ could cause _this_ —”

Albus smacked his pillow into Scorpius’s face with a hissed: _shut up!_. Scorpius didn’t fight it.

“Er…” Harry said nervously. Scorpius thought he might’ve heard Mrs. Potter stifling a laugh.

“Well,” Albus said tightly. “This has been fun. Great fun. I’m really glad I came back to life for these few days. I’ll just be going back to the afterlife now. I’ll tell your parents you said hello, Dad, and Uncle Fred that you said hi, Mum. Bye.”

Without another word, Albus pulled the pillow away from Scorpius, lay down, and placed it over his own face.

“Feel free to smother me,” he said to Scorpius.

“No way,” Scorpius hissed back, equally mortified. He dropped down and stuck his head beneath the pillow, too. “Somebody can smother us both. You’re not leaving me to deal with this.”

“Nobody’s smothering anybody. It never happened. We never heard any of that. We have no idea what you boys are talking about. We’re entirely naïve and ignorant to everything you children do,” Ginny declared. There was a pause. “Wait. Where’s Lily?”

_Uh oh._

* * *

 

“A Muggle clothing shop! Of _all_ the stupid things! Of all the _dangerous_ things! Get in that room right now!”

Scorpius looked up from his homework. He watched Lily stomp over to the sofa. She fell down beside him and grumbled, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Harry was enraged.

“With _everything_ that’s going on! Everybody knows our family is here at St. Mungo’s! And you went out _by yourself_ to a nearby _shop_! I have _never_ been this angry!”

“I think that’s probably not true…” Lily tried to say.

“No backchat!” Ginny snapped. “I don’t even know what you were thinking, Lily! You had no Muggle money! You didn’t even try to stay out of sight!”

“I was window shopping, Mum!”

“IS YOUR LIFE WORTH WINDOW SHOPPING?!” Harry boomed. Scorpius jumped. Albus jerked awake from the hospital bed.

“What…?” Albus groaned.

“How can I _possibly_ get you to understand how dangerous things are right now?! What do I need to do to get you to understand that you are _not invincible_?!”

“Harry…”

Harry didn’t seem to hear Ginny. “A man _died_ , Lily! Your _brother_ almost died! This is not a joke! This is not a scary bedtime story about a bogeyman! Dark wizards and Dark witches are _real_! And they could kill you with two words! They could kill you before you even knew they were standing behind you! You are clever and you’re brave, but you are a _child_! You’re _my_ child, _Harry Potter’s_ child! And if I can’t get you to realize that you are not invincible, that there are adults and teenagers alike who are so dark and disturbed and twisted that killing you would seem like fair revenge on me, I’m _terrified_ that you’re going to come to realize it too late!”

Lily stared at her dad, aghast. “Daddy, it was only right down the street…”

“That _doesn’t matter_!” He was shaking. He was so angry he looked close to tears. He turned abruptly. “I can’t—I can’t even talk about this right now.”

Scorpius gaped as Harry turned and walked quickly from the ward. Lily bowed her head and sniffed. Scorpius slid over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  

“An hour,” Ginny said dryly. She sat in her customary armchair beside Albus’s bed and opened her journal, shaking her head as she did so. “A bloody _hour_. Unbelievable.”


	7. Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus is fed up. Harry and Ginny scramble for solutions to their many parenting struggles. Harry's students confront their worst fears. Albus returns to Hogwarts-- and so do two others. The Potter parents encounter an old foe in an unexpected way.

_Lily Potter_  
_Year Three_  
_Defence Against the Dark Arts_

_Counter-curses_

_I am most looking forward to learning about counter-curses. Almost everybody in my entire family has been cursed at one point or another. I would like to learn more about how counter-curses are created and who massively mucked up and failed to create them for some of the worst curses. It makes no sense! Why do jinxes that are harmless fun have counter-curses but curses that will actually murder you completely have none? Our book says that the Killing Curse does not have a counter-curse because there is no counter-curse for death. I say: let’s fix that! What a terrible idea. Just because there has never been a counter-curse before does not mean somebody can’t make one. I want to make one and I want to learn how. If somebody had been brave enough to do it, the world would be very different. For one, Lord Voldemort would probably be dead right now or at least very old with no friends and only one talent (talking to his pet snakes). I would have_ four _grandparents instead of two. My dad, Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World, best dad and treacle tart maker, would not have his wicked scar, but he would probably still have plenty of other ones because he is always doing brave and reckless things. My mum would have six brothers instead of five. My almost-brother Teddy Lupin would have parents. Many of my classmates would still have family members, too._

_In summary, I would like to learn how to do what all the past incompetent wizards failed to do. There is always a way and I think wizards gave up too soon. I think everybody just started to say ‘a counter-curse is impossible’, so everybody just stopped trying. If everybody (witches) tries really hard again, someone (a witch) will figure it out. And then nobody has to be murdered again. I also think Dark Magic should be taxed. It would help many of the problems that our Minister for Magic, Hermione Jean Granger, complains about over dinner._

* * *

“Should you be marking Lily’s essay while you’re furious with her?”

Harry looked up. He watched his wife cross over to him, her eyes exhausted, her arms crossed tightly.

“How’d you know it was Lily’s from all the way over there?”

“She’s got distinctive handwriting,” Ginny answered. She sat down beside Harry on the uncomfortable sofa. She looked around the quiet reception area. “You ran away to the labor and delivery ward. Interesting choice. Probably says something, but I’m too tired to even try.”

Harry shrugged. He bowed his head back over his daughter’s essay.

“I don’t have long,” Ginny continued. “My mum is with Al. His arm finally stopped bleeding. I just sent James, Lily, and Scorpius back to Hogwarts. But I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” he answered automatically. Ginny gave him a dry look. He tried again. “Okay. I’m…frustrated. Worried. Frightened,” he admitted.

She examined his eyes and he examined hers. She nodded once. He smiled softly as she reached over, pried his quill from his hand, and laced their fingers together.

“She’s not doing too well, is she?” Ginny asked lightly, and at first, Harry thought she meant Lily. He sighed.

“No, and frankly, Gin—”

She wasn’t talking about Lily. She was staring at a terribly young woman sitting across from them, in the throes of a contraction, rocking back and forth in her chair while repeatedly telling both Merlin and Dumbledore to do something vulgar to themselves.

“She’s got to be younger than eighteen. Where are her parents?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. He waited a few more moments. Ginny was still watching the girl in concern. He had such an intense tangle of emotions bearing down on his heart that he wasn’t sure where to start; he wasn’t even sure he wanted to talk about it yet. And yet… “Is she all right?”

Ginny looked back to Harry. “I don’t know, it looks like her baby’s about ten minutes away from crowning, I don’t understand why she’s still out here…”

Harry furrowed his brow. “What? No. Not that girl. _Our_ girl. Our daughter.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Ginny said, giving her head a shake. She shifted in the seat to face Harry. Her knees brushed his. “She’s fine. And do you know what else?”

“What?” he sighed.

“I’m really proud of you. I came here to tell you that I’m _really_ proud of you.”

She squeezed his fingers affectionately. He didn’t feel like she had any reason to be proud of him, but his heart automatically lightened at those words. When she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth, he felt a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Why?” he finally demanded. “I screamed at our daughter and nearly reduced her to tears— _again_.”

The heaviness was back on his heart. He realized it was guilt and shame.

“Because you recognized that you were getting too angry and instead of remaining there, at the risk of saying something you didn’t mean, you walked away. I’ve been trying to teach myself how to do that for _ages_.”

Harry almost didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t keep anything from her.

“I only left because I was about to cry.”

“Because you were getting upset. My point still stands.”

Harry studied her tired eyes. He looked around them, and when he felt certain nobody would overhear, he lowered his voice and continued. “I feel like I’m losing her. Lily. I feel like…our relationship is breaking apart, and I don’t know what to do. I feel like the harder I try to keep her safe and keep her close, the riskier and more withdrawn she gets. And the thought of her…the idea that she could end up…”

His eyes burned so intensely that he had to squeeze them shut. His throat seared. His little Lulu—not so little anymore. When had that happened? His little Lulu, who didn’t _want_ to _be_ his little Lulu anymore. Harry didn’t know what to do with that. There were few things in life as jarring as the experience of raising a daughter. To him, it felt like it was only yesterday that she’d been sitting atop his shoulders, proclaiming to anybody who would listen that her daddy was her best friend. Now, she kept things from him—frightening things. Dangerous things. She wouldn’t let him protect her. She _sought out_ the things that she needed to be protected from. And Harry couldn’t understand it. It felt like the shift had happened overnight. He felt like she had changed at a speed he couldn’t touch. She no longer identified as Little Lulu, but Harry still saw her that way. Harry still loved her that same way—he loved her like shoulder rides, butterfly kisses, giggling Sundays, ‘ _you’re my best daddy’ ‘you’re my best little girl’_. When he looked at her—fierce, clever, proud, arrogant at her worst and larger than life at her best—he saw the same things he’d seen the first time he’d held her: goodness and hope. So how was he meant to cope with the thought that he could one day be without her, despite how desperately he tried to keep her safe?

Ginny saw the tears building before Harry could do much to blink them back. He bent forward, sinking into her embrace as she pulled him into it. He hid his face away in her hair and breathed. Nothing could calm him quite as well as her flowery scent, so he remained in place and repeated the cycle until he felt less liable to publically break down in tears.

“I know. I know, Harry. It terrifies me, too. And that’s why I’m really glad that you yelled at her, because you’re right: she’s _got_ to learn this lesson. It doesn’t have as much of an impact when I do it; she used to me yelling. She listens when you scold.”

“Not well enough, obviously. Where did we go wrong, Gin? Why can’t she just…be a normal, _safe_ thirteen-year-old girl? She shouldn’t be smuggling dragons or pulling dormitory heists. She should be…I dunno…practicing Quidditch and playing Chess or—whatever normal kids do. All I ever wanted for our children was the luxury of a normal life—something we never had. The blessing of being normal children! And our kids are…not normal.”

It was a mildly hilarious understatement, but Harry still felt too ill to laugh. Ginny leaned back and looked at him.

“No, they’re certainly not,” Ginny agreed. And then, without any additional words, she reached up and lightly whacked Harry’s head.

“Oi!” he complained automatically.

“That’s for saying you wish our kids were normal—how _boring_ , don’t wish that on me. They’d be miserable; we’d be miserable; three normal kids and two mad parents? We’d have nothing in common. Face it, Harry. They never had a chance at being normal anyway with our genes.”

“But if they were normal, they wouldn’t keep getting themselves into these dangerous situations.”

“If they were normal, they wouldn’t be James, Albus, and Lily. That’s just _it_ , Harry. Lily is Lily. Lily is exactly what she is and that’s all she’ll _ever_ be. We can’t change that—I wouldn’t want to. And I know you wouldn’t want to, either. It isn’t our job to change who she is. It’s our job to teach her better ways to deal with her frustration and her drive. And we’re going to fail her if we keep insisting that she just ‘be normal’ because that’s _never_ going to happen. I knew that from the first time she kicked, honestly.”

“So what do we do?” Harry said miserably. Frustration was overtaking his guilt. “How do we keep her from getting hurt? Because that’s all I want. I just want her to be safe.”

“Me too. That’s all I want for all of them,” Ginny agreed. Her eyes shifted back to the woman across from them. When Harry followed her gaze, he saw the pregnant teenager was now digging her nails into the arm of the chair, hard enough to leave marks. Ginny continued. “I don’t know what the answer is. We’ve got this same problem with all three. How do we find the balance between protection and trust? How do we give them space but also keep them from being harmed? I don’t know, Harry.”

He didn’t know, either. Just when he thought he’d finally gotten the hang of the parenting thing, something new happened that made him feel sick with worry and generously incompetent.

“This is difficult,” he found himself saying. His voice was nearing a whine. “Being a dad is so difficult.”

“Yeah, so is being a mum,” Ginny agreed.

The pregnant girl gave a sudden, loud, and devastating whimper as if she too agreed. Harry instinctively flinched, his mind flying back decades to the times it’d been _Ginny_ in that much pain. Ginny shook her head, her eyes on the girl as well.

“This poor girl…where is her mother?” she hissed.

“She’s been alone the entire time I’ve been here,” Harry shared.

Ginny looked horrified, and without another word, she stood. Harry watched with intermingled disbelief and faint affection as she promptly crossed over and sat beside the girl, her hand landing lightly over her spine. “You’ve got to breathe _with_ the contractions, not against them—let me show you.”

While Ginny coached the stranger through contractions, Harry tried to return to marking Lily’s essay, but he wasn’t getting very far. He kept thinking about Ginny’s words. _You’ve got to breathe with them, not against them._ And he certainly wasn’t a young girl about to birth a tiny human being. But the words held meaning for him, anyway. Was that the answer? Instead of finding a balance between over-protection and negligence, were they supposed to…work _with_ their kids, instead of against them? Work _with_ their secretive schemes and plans, instead of trying to stop them entirely?

Harry’s musings were interrupted by a loud sob from the pregnant girl. He looked over to her. She was now sobbing directly into Ginny’s breasts, all semblance of personal space forgotten in the throes of her pain and anxiety. Ginny patted the girl’s hair, a bit taken aback.

“It’s all right, Mara,” Ginny said.  

The girl cried even harder. “ _What if it dies_?!”

The words were muffled into Ginny’s top, but they were shrieked so loudly that Harry made out every word with no issue. Ginny looked alarmed.

“Oh, it won’t! Don’t say that! Don’t even think like that. You’re going to give birth, the baby will be fine, _you’ll_ be fine. You’ll read a book, take a bath, take a _breath_ , and before you know it, your baby will be jumping from broomsticks midair, starting student organizations, kissing boys, smuggling dragons, going back in time...you name it, your baby will do it…you won’t _believe_ some of the things it’ll do…bit maddening, really…”

The girl lifted her face. She hiccupped so hard that her hair slipped from its messy ponytail.

“But my baby’s a boy,” she finally said.

“Yeah, I can tell from the way you’re carrying,” Ginny said, with a comforting pat to the girl’s back. Harry wasn’t following the conversation as well as Ginny was; he wasn’t sure why the girl was arguing about her baby’s sex. Ginny seemed to understand, though. “My baby that grew up to kiss boys was a boy, too.”

Harry snorted. The girl was not comforted by Ginny’s words.

“Oh, I c-c-can’t do it! I don’t know _how to be a mum_!”

 _A bit late to consider that now,_ Harry thought. He made a quick correction to Lily’s essay.

“Neither do I, and I’ve been one for seventeen years. I managed all right. All three of mine are healthy, happy, and well-adjusted. Well, okay…two out of three are healthy…one nearly died...but he’s almost recovered! And…I’m positive that _at least_ one is genuinely happy. And…you know, all three are…moderately well-adjusted…some more than others…”

The girl gave a loud wail. Ginny winced.

“Look, the only thing you’ve got to know how to do is love your child, and judging by how worried you are for your baby, I think you’ve already managed that. Just love them and you can get through everything else, I promise.” The girl’s cries broke off as another contraction overtook her. Ginny continued patting her back. “Is there somebody I can Floo? Somebody who can be here with you?”

Because he was her husband, Harry was able to easily read the subtext to that. _Is there somebody to take care of you so I can go take care of_ my _baby?_ She was beginning to look anxious and antsy, the way she’d been getting anytime Albus was ‘alone’ for more than five minutes (because, in her mind, being with anybody but her made Albus ‘alone’—Harry was working on that).

“My m-m-mum is here,” the girl responded.

Both Harry and Ginny turned and glanced around the room. Just like Harry had thought, there was nobody else.

“Er…yeah? She is?” Ginny asked. She looked over and met Harry’s eyes, hers widened. He grimaced. The girl was clearly delusional.

“Y-yes, only, _she’s_ giving birth right now! I c-couldn’t stay back with her, I got too scared,” the girl continued.

 _What the hell?_ Harry was still trying to wrap his head around the logistics of that while Ginny replied.

“Oh. Oh, I see. Er. Both having babies at the same time…exciting? Er—”

Ginny was interrupted by the opening of the double doors behind them. A Healer stepped out.

“Mara? Your mum is done and ready to see you.”

Mara jumped up immediately.

“Thanks,” she told Ginny. She crossed towards the door. And then she stopped. She stood still for a moment and then turned around, an incredulous expression on her face. “Wait. Are you…” her eyes scanned the room, landing at once on Harry. They swelled to three times their previous size. “You _are_! And there’s _Harry Potter_! Have you been here this whole time?!”

“Oh, look at the time, Harry,” Ginny said quickly. Harry was already scrambling for his items and cramming them back into his bag. Mara was still staring blankly, and she probably would’ve continued to, if another contraction hadn’t overcome her. Ginny walked over and helped Harry finish gathering his things, they waved, wished Mara luck, and then they ducked quickly into the safety of the lift before word got around that they were in this reception area. They’d managed to stay relatively unbothered by leaving places quickly—before too many people noticed they were there—and Harry wanted it to remain that way. 

As soon as the lift doors shut, Ginny turned to Harry.

“I’m really concerned about that girl,” she said.

“I’m concerned about the parents. Two newborns in the family at once? No, thanks anyway.”

“Ugh, that reminds me: yesterday James said he and Nora decided they want _eight_ children.”

“Eight,” Harry deadpanned. He truly couldn’t _imagine_. He was overwhelmed with three. “He’s either joking or mad.”

But at the same time, he was thinking about those days—the early days of parenthood. That wondrous rush of perfect joy at the sight of a new baby. As traumatizing as the newborn experience could be at times, there were few things quite as special. He reached out and wrapped his arm around Ginny’s waist; she leaned against his side.

“That girl—did you hear what she said when I was reassuring her that her baby would be okay? After all the things I said her baby could grow up to do, it was _kissing boys_ she was the most concerned about. Not a good sign. The prospect of your child smuggling a dragon or going back in time should probably always alarm you more than the prospect of them kissing a boy.”

“She was panicking and in pain.”

“Eh, I’d argue that makes you even more honest. And that baby’s head is _huge_ and her hips are _narrow…_ I should send her flowers and a cheese hamper…maybe that parenting book Hermione gave us that we never read…maybe some of Al’s morphine…”

Harry laughed. He gently poked her side. “Are you the baby expert now? You can see the sex and the size of the head without any imaging spells?”

“Yes I am, precisely. She’s carrying low—it’s a boy. She was so far along that you could make out bits of the baby through her skin—it had a _massive_ head.”

“Well, your skills are going to come in handy when Nora has eight babies.”

“Oh, _Merlin_ …” Ginny muttered, a haunted look in place. It remained for the rest of the walk.

* * *

 

Albus was not in his bed when they walked in. Molly looked up from her place at his side.

“He insisted on walking,” she told them, an edge of annoyance in her tone. “I tried to talk him out of it, but that proved to be more difficult than I’d anticipated.”

Their son was leaning heavily into Molly’s side, pale-faced and panting. It was clear that he wasn’t so much _walking_ as being dragged. But his jaw was set in familiar determination, and after a few moments of catching his breath, he unsteadily straightened up to stand on his own. Harry’s stomach churned as his legs began visibly trembling. Ginny flinched at Harry’s side and took a half-step forward automatically. Molly barely managed to catch Albus underneath the arms as his legs buckled beneath him. Harry hurried over as Molly stumbled. He reached for Albus’s waist to pull him upright, but Albus shrugged from his grasp.

“I can do it!” he argued.

“Al, your circulation, you can’t—” Ginny tried to say, but Albus interrupted her.

“No, Mum! I can do it, okay?! I’m not a baby!” A pause. “And it’s _not_ my circulation that’s the problem. The Healers are wrong. Which means I can work through this.”

“How do you know it’s not?” Harry asked, but the obvious answer occurred to him quickly afterwards once he remembered what had caused Albus’s latest arm injury. _Oh. He may be right, then…_  

“Sorry, but _yes_ , you are a baby; you’re my baby,” Ginny said. Albus managed a half-hearted eye-roll. “And I won’t have you injuring yourself on some stubborn whim.”

“I am _not_ a baby.”

“Yes, you are. You’re my baby. I’ve got scars to show for it. I can do this all day, Al.”

Albus swayed weakly. Harry and Molly almost took an automatic step forward but forced themselves not to intervene. Albus ground his teeth and took one shaky step forward. And then he collapsed completely, his legs folding uselessly beneath him, sending him falling hard onto the tiled floor.  

 _“Damn it_!” he cried, frustrated and nearing tears. Harry edged forward, but once again forced himself to stop short of his son. Albus pressed his palms to the tile and tried to push himself up, but his entire body was trembling now. Whether from weakness, over-exertion, or embarrassment, Harry wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t bear to see Albus that way.

Albus tried a few more times to stand but gave up a moment later. He leaned forward.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked tearfully.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Molly said instantly. Ginny was already at Albus’s side. She kneeled down and sat beside him on the floor, her arms wrapping around him. Harry had to look away and clear his throat as Albus sank into her embrace, because he immediately began crying, and the sight made Harry want to cry, too.

“You can’t expect yourself to be better overnight,” Ginny was whispering. “Think of what you’re recovering from.”

“I _need_ to be better!” Albus sobbed. “I want to be better _now_! I’m tired of it! I want to be at Hogwarts!”

It was something Harry never thought he’d hear his son say. He couldn’t even appreciate it, given the circumstances.

“You _will_ get better, but you’ve got to give it time. Are you hurting again? Is that was this is about?” Ginny asked.

Ordinarily, Albus would’ve lied, so when he nodded against his mum’s shoulder, Harry knew he was in _extreme_ pain. Ginny looked back at Harry and met his eyes. He immediately moved forward and leaned over; they both helped hoist Albus back to his feet. He was still sniffling as he reclined on his bed. Ginny and Molly sat on either side of him.

“Just a little longer and you can have more medicine,” Ginny murmured, her hand brushing comfortingly through Albus’s untidy hair. Molly was fussing with his tangled IV lines, mumbling about _messy muggle medicine._ It occurred to Harry—with a rush of gratitude—that Albus had _at least_ been spared _some_ of the pain that Harry had been through in his childhood; the sight of his son sandwiched between two Weasley mums made Harry feel reassured and comforted on Albus’s behalf. At least his son would never know what it felt like to be suffering in a hospital bed without a mum present, and the pain of that could sometimes be worse than the physical.

Albus’s eyes landed on Harry. Harry met his gaze.

“Dad,” he said. Harry waited, but Albus didn’t say anything else. He approached and sat at the end of Albus’s bed. His hand fell to rest over his son’s calf.

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.”

Molly immediately crushed Albus to her bosom in a tight, suffocating hug.

“Oh, Al!” she cried tearfully. “You’re going to be okay. I promise!”

Albus hugged his gran back, but he looked a bit winded from the pressure of her hug.

“Mum. Too much love,” Ginny hissed.

“No such thing,” Molly snapped back. But she loosened her arms a bit.

“What are you scared of, Albus?” Harry asked, concerned. “About not getting better? About the man that died?”

“No. About Scorpius and James and Lily.”

 _Oh_. Of course. As soon as Albus said it, Harry realized he ought to have realized that already.

“I hate being here when they’re there,” Albus continued. He hid his face into Molly’s shoulder. “Especially Scorpius.”

“I don’t think anybody will hurt Scorpius,” Ginny said gently. “He _is_ a Malfoy. I don’t think his association with you entirely overwrites that.”

“They wouldn’t care about that,” Albus immediately said, voicing what Harry had been thinking. “They’d see Draco Malfoy as the ultimate traitor. Scorpius even more. He’s not supposed to be there without me. At Hogwarts.”

Harry could feel Ginny’s eyes on him, and when he glanced at her, she was imploring him silently to do something. But what? What did she want him to do? He couldn’t exactly follow Scorpius around all day and all night. Harry stared right back, frustrated and baffled. After at least a minute of their intense eye contact, Molly cleared her throat.

“Something you two want to talk about?” she asked.

Ginny didn’t lower her gaze. “Harry, Albus is worried that somebody will hurt Scorpius at Hogwarts. His boyfriend. Albus is somewhere other than Hogwarts, and he’s worried that somebody at Hogwarts will hurt Scorpius, _at Hogwarts_.”

Was she having a stroke? She was looking at him like he was being purposefully daft.

“Blimey, if only _you knew what that felt like_!” she continued sarcastically.

His mind immediately flew to the year he’d spent looking for the Horcruxes, when Ginny had been stuck at Hogwarts. Oh. _Oh._

“Oh,” he said.

“Yes. _Oh_ ,” Ginny repeated.

Albus and Molly were lost. Harry smiled.

“Right,” he said. He stepped down from Albus’s bed. He crossed over to his bag and began withdrawing items—books, essays, ink, quills, sherbet lemons, sugar quills, his wife’s lipstick (what was that doing in there?), an old _Prophet_ —

“Ah ha,” he said. He grabbed the worn parchment and walked over. He lifted Ginny’s ankles, so he could sit beneath her legs, so he’d be closer to Albus. He dropped her legs back down onto his lap and produced the map. “Here you go, Al.”

Albus didn’t take it. He stared.

“The Marauder’s Map.”

“Right. I was going to give it to you anyway once you were back at Hogwarts, but you’ve got better use for it now, I think. Here you go. Do it. Go for it.” He waited. As the silence stretched on, his smile lessened. “Er…do you remember how to—”

“I haven’t got my wand,” Albus told Harry. He still looked a bit stunned. “I don’t even know where it is.”

Harry hesitated. “We didn’t think to look for it soon enough, with you being so injured and all…it got kicked down the corridor and stepped on.”

Albus sighed. “I’ve broken _another_ wand?”

“I’m afraid so. But Ollivander’s son says he feels confident that he’s got a grasp on what wands work best for you at this point; he’s going to come by at some point with a few for you to try.”

“I really liked that wand,” Albus frowned. Harry could somehow still remember the sting he’d felt when his own wand had been temporarily broken during the Horcrux hunt, so he sympathized with his son.

“Sorry, Al,” Harry said gently.

“Here,” Ginny passed Albus her own wand and nodded towards the map. Albus pointed the Yew wand at the parchment, murmured ‘ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’_ , and watched with his parents and grandmother as ink bloomed across the parchment.

Molly had seen the map only one time prior. She examined it this time with the same look she’d used then: intrigued distrust. Molly and Arthur Weasley had never quite moved past their fear of things that ‘think without a brain’ and the map was no exception; Harry’s father being one of the creators only _slightly_ softened their opinion on it.

“Oh,” Ginny said happily. She pointed, smiling. “There’s Jamie! And—oh, for the love of _Dumbledore_ —”

“ _Ooh_ ,” Albus said gleefully, his eyes dancing with amused malice. “That certainly looks like James and Nora in the boys’ dormitory. It certainly looks like they’re on the same _bed…_ wonder what _—_ ”

“Albus!” Molly scolded. Albus fell silent, but he and Harry exchanged amused looks, their lips pursed against the urge to laugh.

“Well,” Ginny finally said, only the slightest twinge of disgust in her voice, “at least we know he’s safe.”

“They really should update the rules in Gryffindor Tower…why Godric Gryffindor _ever_ thought only banning boys from going into dorms of the opposite sex was effective I’ll never understand…honestly, boys that age are far too nervous to initiate things anyway; the girls are the gutsy ones…” Harry mused. He tried not to, but his path of sight crossed with Ginny’s. They looked away from each other and tried not to laugh. They failed. Molly scowled.

“I’ll thank you two for _not_ saying anything about why you’re laughing; I’ve heard way more than I ever wanted to know about my daughter’s Hogwarts years as is.”

“Ugh,” Albus muttered.

Harry shrugged. He certainly didn’t think the memories were gross. Ginny winked at him.

“I don’t get it,” Albus said, drawing their attention back to him and the map. Harry glanced back at the hundreds and hundreds of moving dots. “It’s nice. The map. But it doesn’t change the situation.”

“It does, though,” Harry said. When Albus failed to look reassured, Harry realized he’d have to explain a bit more. “You can…you know. Watch. Keep an eye out. When I was…when your mum was…” his cheeks were already burning. “Er. You know, when we were apart—and things were so awful at Hogwarts—I used to…watch. Her dot, you know. To make sure she was okay.” Albus continued staring at Harry. He was feeling frustrated and a bit embarrassed. “It helped. To watch her walking about, living her life. To know that she was all right, that she was okay, that she might even be thinking of me—”

Ginny teasingly mimed vomiting. Harry struggled to keep his face impassive.

“ _Why_ I did that…sometimes I wonder…” he deadpanned. Ginny elbowed him in the ribs and grinned.  He beamed back. It was all too much for Molly Weasley. She was teary-eyed as she seized Harry in a sudden and somewhat aggressive hug.

“The _sweetest_ boy, the _kindest man_ , I always knew, Harry, I knew what a brilliant boy you were, so _sweet_ to my daughter, so _good_ …”

“Yeah, yeah, all right, Mum,” Ginny said. “Don’t praise him too much. He still conveniently “forgets” to put his clean clothes away and he – ” Molly leaned back and leveled the angriest look that Harry had ever seen Ginny’s way. Ginny’s words crumbled. “…it’s a joke, Mum. I’m just _joking_. It’s—it’s our Potter thing, we _banter_ …Harry knows…he’s not offended…he knows he’s a great husband…his quiches are to die for…” Molly didn’t let up. Ginny hesitated. “And…and he always smells good. And, you know, I love him.”

Harry was glad James wasn’t there, though he heard the words his eldest child would’ve inevitably said regardless. _“Ha, ha, Mum, you_ love _Dad, you want to marry him again, you want to have his babies, you want to make him another singing valentine! You’re in love!”_. The room almost felt empty without James’s ridiculous taunts and Ginny’s inevitable responding laughter. There was an audible pause in the conversation as if everybody in the room were waiting for it anyway.  

“Yeah,” Harry hurriedly said, breaking the silence. “I don’t mind at all, Molly.” Molly still didn’t look convinced. “Er…she worships me and I know it?”

“ _Ew_ ,” Albus repeated, his head still bowed. When he continued, his voice sounded a bit distressed. “Dad, I don’t see Scorpius anywhere on here. Will you help me?”

“Of course, Al, we all can,” Harry said quickly, hoping to break the potentially budding argument between Ginny and Molly. Ginny hurriedly leaned over to peer at the map. Harry batted at her hair so he could see, too. He looked automatically to the Slytherin dorms first, but the only names he saw in the fifth year boys’ dorm were Saul Montague, Sigmund Stone, Omri Bigelow, and Malcolm Bletchley. He moved his eyes to the library next. Two of Lily’s friends (Evandrus Davies and Quinton Bell)...a few of Harry’s second year students were grouped together…Louis and Clementine Clearwater…Evvie Wilson and James’s friend Ben…Vann Fredericks…Madam Pince and Peeves, she was most likely running him off…

“I can’t find him either,” Ginny said.

“Don’t worry,” Harry reassured Albus. “I’m sure James just has him sleeping in the Room of Requirement again…it doesn’t show up on the map…. _what_ are Lily, Aster, and Emi Crescent doing roaming the halls at this hour? Look at that!”

Harry pointed incredulously at the tightly grouped dots. _Lily Potter, Aster Boot,_ and _Emi Crescent_ were creeping down towards the Entrance Hall.

“They’re going to get caught, look,” Albus said suddenly. He pressed his finger to another dot—McGonagall. The four of them waited nervously as the dots drew closer and closer.

“They’re not turning back. They’re going to approach her head on!” Molly said, aghast.

Harry recognized the scene easily. “She’s stolen the Invisibility Cloak. I’m sure of it.”

Sure enough, McGonagall’s dot passed right by the three delinquents. She kept walking, her pace not slowing.

“ _What_ are they doing?” Ginny breathed.

With an intensity not unlike the way Muggles watched films on their televisions, they sat in silence and watched Lily, Aster, and Emi weave through corridors.

“They’re going to the staffroom,” Harry finally realized.

“Did you tell her the password?” Ginny asked.

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t figure it out some other way...”

“The gargoyles won’t let her in, surely…” Molly muttered.

But they did just that. Lily, Emi, and Aster went into the staffroom. Harry and his family watched the three roam around for nearly fifteen minutes before concluding that they were most likely just snooping.

“And I’ll bet she’s stealing sweets,” Harry added. “Oh, if she takes Slughorn’s pineapple he’s going to blame the Divination professor and that will not be good.” He made a mental note to avoid the staffroom tomorrow.

Molly waited until Albus’s next round of medicine was set up (fussing with his hair the entire while, much to Albus’s annoyance) and then she kissed them all and made her way back to the Burrow. Albus shifted from pain to exhaustion as the medicine took effect. He would’ve denied it until his last breath if Harry ever mentioned it again, but he was quite content to cuddle up to his mum and allow her to stroke his hair as he slipped off to sleep. 

“You love this,” Harry realized later. They were crammed together in the adjoining toilet, brushing their teeth side by side at the tiny sink. Ginny scrunched up her face in confusion, spat out a mouthful of toothpaste, and then looked at him as she ran her toothbrush under the flowing faucet.

“Sorry, what? Love what, exactly? Brushing my teeth? Standing so close to you that our pelvises are going to fuse into one giant pelvis? Sleeping in St. Mungo’s?”

“You love being able to coddle Al.”

She rinsed her mouth out, set her toothbrush down, and then turned, so the front of her body was pressed against the side of his and they were no longer standing side-by-side. She wrapped her arms around his waist. It was much more comfortable that way, without their hipbones digging painfully into each other. It was certainly not a toilet made for two. Harry let his free arm rest along her shoulders as he finished brushing his own teeth.

“Do I love the fact that Albus is in enough pain to feel the need to be coddled? No. Not in the slightest. I feel sick over it all day, every day. But do I love being able to baby him like he’s three years old again? Do I love the fact that he’s asking for comfort instead of suffering alone? Wholeheartedly. I only wish he’d never grown out of it in the first place.”

“Funny...” Harry said. He set his toothbrush down and turned around to face Ginny, both his arms lowering to wrap around her waist. “I seem to remember a certain young mother bombarding me at the door one winter’s day, two boys on her heels, insisting that if she didn’t get a moment’s solitude she would…what was it again? ‘Tear her hair out strand by strand’?”

Ginny scowled. “If you’re referring to the Year of the Clingy Sons, when both James and Albus wouldn’t even let me go to the loo alone, you’ll remember that I was quite justified in having that reaction.”

He slid one palm up her back to reach her hair. He played with the ends, a smirk cropping up before he could stop it.

“I believe you said…‘I can’t _wait_ until they’re old enough to be able to do things on their own!’.”

“And, again, Harry: that was the year that I became a toddler god. James had to have my input on _everything_ …do you remember that? What shade of red to use on his drawing, whether or not he should jump up the stairs or run up them, how many bites of carrot he should eat before one bite of chicken…all day long was a running interrogation. And Albus—”

“Would wander around the house calling ‘Mama? Mama? Where go?’ the second you disappeared from sight. I remember.”

“He did it to you, too! Actually, I still stand by my theory that it _started_ because of you! Remember, you used to come home for lunch, cuddle with Al until he fell asleep for his nap, and then you’d leave while he was still sleeping to go back to work, so the first thing Al always did upon waking was search the house for you. You gave him a complex. Oh, and don’t ever forget the Shower Calamity that same year.”

Harry laughed loudly. “Oh, Merlin, how could I forget that? Why don’t we ever tell that story at parties?”

Ginny snickered. “We really ought to.”

“Wasn’t funny at the time, though,” Harry reminded her. He lifted his hand up and touched over his forehead. “I really thought I’d have another scar.”

“Then you had no faith in my healing abilities! I patched you up all right.”

Harry lowered his hand. He grinned. “Yeah, you must’ve. No scar.”

She rolled forward onto her tiptoes and rose up. She kissed his forehead, somehow remembering the exact spot he’d split his head open almost fifteen years prior. “No scar.”

“Still,” Harry said, “I’m really glad they’re not toddlers anymore because it’s great to not have to worry about sneak attacks in the shower. Even when I _didn’t_ fall and split my head open, it was always disconcerting to have those two suddenly run into the shower, usually still half-dressed and shrieking. And then there was the time they brought the cat…”

“Aw, they just wanted to spend time with you,” Ginny said. “To them, it made perfect sense: Dad was in there, so they should obviously be in there, too. It was adorable, honestly.”

Harry smiled, overcome with a sudden surge of affectionate nostalgia. “We had some pretty adorable kids, didn’t we?”

“Oh, the cutest. Without a doubt. I think they’re still pretty cute.”

“Better not let Lily hear you calling her _cute_ ,” Harry snorted. “She’ll riot.”

“She _is_ cute, whether she likes it or not,” Ginny said stubbornly. She leaned into Harry’s chest and yawned. “C’mon, I’m tired. Let’s get out of this tiny room and go toss and turn for five hours before Al’s medicine wears off again.”

“Oh, well, that just sounds lovely. Really restful.”

They changed into the pajamas Molly brought, Harry set his glasses on Albus’s bedside table, and then they snuggled down beneath the blankets on their narrow camp bed. Harry exhaled deeply, feeling comfortable for the first time that day, his cheek pressed against the top of Ginny’s head and their limbs intertwined.

“I was wrong when I was younger,” Ginny whispered. Her voice was so tired that her words sounded mushed together. “I’ve changed my mind and I wish we could go back to the Year of the Clingy Sons. We could protect them that way. We could keep them from getting hurt. Albus wouldn’t be in this hospital…James wouldn’t have been tortured…they’d be happy and _okay_ …that’s all I want…”

“I know. I wish for that sometimes, too,” Harry whispered back.

“How can we keep them safe?” she asked. It was meant to be rhetorical, but Harry couldn’t help but reply.

“I think…we’ve got to breathe with them.”

“Er…what? Sorry? Is this something else Dumbledore said because I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: he might not be the best person to take parenting advice from?”

“No. I mean…I just…y’know…we’ve been trying to stop their schemes…trying to prevent trouble….what if we didn’t?”

“Meaning…?”

“What if we got involved. Stepped right into everything. Helped with whatever they’re trying to do. Made ourselves…allies, instead of opponents? Then they wouldn’t feel the need to hide things…they wouldn’t feel the need to lie…they’d come to us immediately for help…we could keep them safe…” Harry yawned into Ginny’s hair. He was slipping off just as quickly as she was. She snuggled closer and sighed; a sign she would be asleep at any moment.

“We could go to Hogwarts…” she mumbled.

To his sleep-soaked mind, it made perfect sense. He smiled lazily.

“Yeah. Hogwarts. We could move to Hogwarts.”

“Okay…it’s a date…”

“I’ll be there…”

He felt like he’d only just fallen asleep when the sound of Albus’s whimpering woke him. He rolled over and squinted into the darkness; he could make out the shape of Albus, doubled over at the waist, his breaths leaving him in harsh, pained bursts. Ginny had slept through it for the first time since they’d arrived at St. Mungo’s—probably due to the intensity of her sleep deficit at this point—and Harry was reluctant to wake her. He carefully pushed the blankets back, extracted his limbs from Ginny’s, and stumbled his way towards the bedside table.

“Al, what’s wrong?” Harry whispered. He groped the surface of the table for his glasses. He crammed them onto his face as soon as he located them. Albus came into focus. He looked as bad as Harry had previously thought. Harry climbed up onto the bed and immediately reached for his son. Perhaps it was because he’d fallen asleep thinking about the toddler years. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t bear to see his son in this much pain without reverting to the cuddling father he’d been when his children were tiny. Or perhaps it was because he was too tired to warn himself that Albus might not want _his_ affection. Whatever the reason, he found himself enveloping Albus into his arms and pulling him close. Harry was prepared for Albus to push him away and ask for Ginny instead; he expected and accepted it. But Albus didn’t. 

“Dad,” he sobbed, his arms wrapping around Harry, too. He leaned fully into Harry, with complete and utter trust, his body shaking with sobs. “Dad, it hurts so much.”

And Harry felt that pain take root inside of him, too. He held his son even tighter and struggled to speak despite his narrowing throat.

“I’m so sorry, Al. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He went to pull back, so he could check the chart Ginny had made to see if the night shift Healers were late with Albus’s medicine, but Albus refused to lessen his hold.

“Don’t go,” he said. “Dad, don’t leave. I’m scared. I don’t want to die again. Don’t leave.”

Had he ever heard words that hurt more? He couldn’t recall. His chest was gaping now like somebody had carved out a massive chunk of his heart.

“You won’t die again, Al,” Harry managed to say.

“It feels like it,” Albus gasped. He was crying so hard that he could hardly catch his breath. “I’m scared, Dad.”

He was terrified, because Albus was showing him complete vulnerability, and he was convinced that he would let Albus down. What was there to say back to that? How could he convince Albus that he wasn’t dying when he clearly felt like he was? He couldn’t. No matter what he said, he’d never get through to Albus while he was in this much pain. All he could do was what he was doing. He could wait out the pain with him.

He relaxed back against the pillows, bringing Albus with him. He stared up at the dark ceiling as Albus sobbed into his chest, his son’s hands clenched into tight fists, his breathing labored. Harry kissed Albus’s hair. He hadn’t done that in _years_.

“I won’t leave,” he said. Somewhere in his frantic, worn-down mind, he remembered little Albus waking from every nap to search the entire house for Harry. “I won’t leave you alone. Wherever you go, I go, too.”

* * *

 

He was burning up when he woke. He groaned, kicked weakly to knock the blankets off him, and rolled over.

“Morning,” he heard Ginny say.

Harry yawned, stretched, and then rolled over onto his side. He stared at Ginny. She was dressed for the day with two mugs in hand. She was beaming. Harry looked around, hoping to see Albus in better spirits, but his heart sank.

He sat straight up. His head spun. “Where’s our son?”

Her smile only grew. “Harry, the phoenix tears arrived early. He’s in the procedure room right now.”

Harry stared at her, stunned. “It’s…here?”

“Hopefully mending him as we speak.”

He fell back against the mattress weakly. “Oh, thank _Merlin_!”

Ginny sat down on the bed. She passed Harry a mug of tea. He sat back up and took a grateful sip.

“It’s a miracle they arrived when they did. The medicine doesn’t seem to be working well anymore.”

Harry lowered his tea. “It was horrible last night. I didn’t wake you. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” she said immediately. “You were with him. And I’m so glad that you were.”

“When did you wake up? Did he ever go to sleep?”

“Probably around an hour after you did. Yeah, he did finally fall asleep, for an hour or so. But then Vic arrived with the news and they took him immediately back for the procedure.”

“How long should it take?”

“They aren’t sure. I already sent an owl to McGonagall; I assumed you’d want to wait here today.”

“I do.”

* * *

 

Harry and Ginny rose as Vic stepped through the doorway. Her exuberant smile told them all they needed to know.

“It worked,” she laughed. She clapped her hands together, and in her uninhibited joy, Harry saw a flash of five-year-old Victoire. “It worked amazingly well. Look at these scans.”

She withdrew shimmering gold sheets of daintily thin parchment. Harry and Ginny hurried over and peered at each one. Harry hadn’t seen the first, but he assumed the smooth lines and absence of internal bleeding were a good thing. Ginny seemed breathless with relief.

“I don’t see any damage…even his liver and his heart, look, Harry, not one slice, not one wound. And the pain, Vic? It’s gone entirely?”

“He’s been begging me to let him walk downstairs for some shepherd’s pie if that tells you anything.”

Harry immediately turned to Ginny. She turned to him. They threw themselves into each other’s arms, laughter leaving them in thrilled peals. Harry gripped Ginny so tightly that it was nearly painful.

“He’s better,” he choked.

“No more pain,” Ginny added, sounding equally teary. She leaned back. “Let’s take him to get that shepherd’s pie.”

* * *

 

He ate exactly like one might expect a teenage boy who hadn’t seen real food in days to eat. Harry was mildly impressed.

“Another?” Albus asked hopefully, after polishing off an entire shepherd’s pie.

“No, sorry, Al,” Ginny said. “Vic said you weren’t to push it. Are you really still hungry?”

“Not really…I just missed the taste of food so much…” he admitted, his eyes pinned dreamily on the display of cakes and pies.

Harry laughed. He reached over and ruffled Albus’s hair. Albus didn’t even pull away _or_ scowl, which Harry considered a win for fatherhood all around.  

“All right,” Albus said. He stood up on shaky but determined legs. “Let’s go.”

Harry and Ginny exchanged a confused look. “Go?”

Albus nodded. He smiled. “Yeah! To drop me off at Hogwarts. Scorpius is going to be _thrilled_!”

Harry’s heart sank.

“Al…we can’t just take you back.”

Albus’s smile faltered. He looked from Harry to Ginny.

“Why not? I’m fine! I feel better than fine! I feel better than I’ve _ever_ felt!”

“They just did a procedure that they’ve never done before; they have to keep an eye on you. Besides, curse damage is tricky. There’s always a chance it could come back,” Ginny said gently.

Albus stared. A heavy silence settled over them.

“So what? I’m supposed to live here in a bubble for the rest of my life?” he demanded. He was visibly disappointed. Harry frowned.

“Of course not. Just for a week or so, and then depending on how you’re doing, maybe another week or maybe—”

“A _week_?! No. No!”

“Al—”

“That’s _rubbish_! That’s rubbish! I’m better! I don’t need to be here anymore, I need to be at Hogwarts!”

People were paying close attention to them now. Harry saw a few people pulling out cameras. He quickly stood and approached Albus. He gently grabbed his arm.

“Let’s go upstairs and talk to your Healers about it.”

“Fine,” Albus snapped.

He’d been shaky on the walk down, but that was nothing compared to the walk back. He stumbled stepping into the lift; Harry barely managed to catch him. He heard the sound of a camera clicking behind them before the lift doors slammed shut. Albus slowly stood back up, his hand clenched tightly around the side rail. His legs were quivering.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, before Ginny could even vocalize the words that had been building. He leaned against the lift wall the rest of the trip, barely managing to remain upright. Harry and Ginny avoided eyes.

He immediately begged Victoire to let him leave as soon as they returned from the ward. When she told him _no_ , very firmly, his eyes filled with angry tears.

“I just want to go back!” he raged aloud. His legs shook worse than ever. Victoire was frowning.

“Your legs are still weak?”

“No, I’m just reenacting a Jelly-Legs jinx for the fun of it!” Albus snapped.

 She was still frowning.

“What?” Harry asked immediately.

She hesitated. “We hoped the weakness was from the pain.”

“But he’s not in pain anymore,” Ginny said.

“I know. Which means the weakness in his legs is most likely from his brain bleed.”

Albus threw himself down onto the bed. “Oh, great! So I’m crippled now, too?! Fantastic!”

Victoire scowled. She switched from Healer Weasley to Albus’s cousin in a nanosecond. She reached over and lightly smacked Albus’s head. “You’re not _crippled_ , Albus, stop being dramatic. It’s really common after a cerebral hemorrhage. Luckily for you, you’re a wizard; we’ve got a potion for that.”

Harry hardly dared to believe it. “A potion? Just like that and he’ll be better?”

“Well… _potions_ would be more accurate. He’ll have to take it three times a day every day for a month. But after that, yeah.”

“A month without being able to walk?” Albus asked, incredulous.

“Oi—be glad you’re not a Muggle; they do odd manual labor to try and improve mobility. Physical therapy, they call it,” Vic told Albus sternly. “And that can take _years_ to show any improvement.”

Albus didn’t seem that reassured. He crossed his legs atop the bed, snatched the Marauder’s Map from the bedside table, and then stared at it angrily until Ginny tossed him her wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he grumbled.

“Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

“Not funny, Mum,” Albus snapped.

“I thought it was funny,” Harry said.

“See? Dad thought it was funny.”

“Dad thinks everything you say is funny,” Albus muttered. Harry looked at Ginny. They both shrugged.

“Good luck,” Victoire told them. “I’ll see if I can get an estimate on when he can be released.”

“Thanks, but don’t rush it just because he’s in a mood,” Harry said. “We want what’s best for his health.”

“Absolutely,” Ginny echoed. “We can take his surliness. We can’t take him getting worse again.”

“I don’t see him _again_!” Albus complained. “It’s…what? Fifth period? What day is it?”

“Friday.”

“Friday,” Albus muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the map quickly. “So he should be in Potions right now…Dad, _I don’t see him_!”

His tone went higher in his panic. Ginny sighed and dropped down beside Albus. She pulled the map from his hands.

“Let me look,” she said.

Albus fidgeted nervously as she searched. After a moment, she smiled.

“There, see? He’s just skived off class. He’s in the second-floor corridor.”

“What’s he doing there?” Albus demanded. “Scorpius doesn’t skive off class.”

“Hang on, let me just tune into the Scorpius Malfoy radio station I’ve conveniently got in my brain…ah, yes, here we are…gathering a thought…he’s thinking about books…”

“ _Mum_!” Albus complained, but Harry caught his lips twitching for a moment. Harry walked over and sat beside Ginny. He watched Scorpius’s moving dot.

“Oh,” he realized. “I think he’s going to my office.”

Albus looked up. “You went there and told him why you wouldn’t be teaching today, right? You told him I was getting the phoenix tears.”

Harry hesitated. “Er…”

Albus’s eyes widened. He looked between them. “Well, somebody at least told him something, right? Because if Dad never showed up to school, he probably thought that meant something bad happened to me!”

 _Bollocks_.

“To be honest, Al…we weren’t thinking about much but you at the time. We didn’t even tell James or Lily which…I realize now…was a mistake…Harry, they’re in McGonagall’s office.”

“James and Lily?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We messed up.”

“Right. We did. Again.”

Albus climbed off the bed. He held onto the edge to keep himself steady and upright.

“Well, I guess we’d better go to Hogwarts and explain everything to them!”

“Your _dad_ or I will go to Hogwarts and bring them here. You can’t go anywhere yet, Al, and that’s that,” Ginny said firmly.

Albus glowered, but he reluctantly sat back onto the bed. “You mean _Scorpius_ , too, right?”

“If McGonagall and Draco allow it.”

“They’ll allow it,” Albus said stubbornly.

Harry looked at Ginny. However many days Albus had to remain in hospital…it was going to be a rough ride for everybody.

* * *

 

On Wednesday of the following week, Harry arrived at Hogwarts with a massive, inherited cupboard from Percy and Audrey’s loft, which the couple swore contained a boggart. Ordinarily, dealing with boggarts was fairly standard, but Harry had been stunned to learn the day prior that only the seventh years had ever been taught how to get rid of a boggart. (And, well…he still hadn’t finished marking their essays, and he was becoming rapidly unpopular amongst the students for that reason, so he hoped a “fun day” would lighten everybody up. And give him more time to finish marking those essays.)

“Morning, Harry!” Neville greeted cheerfully. He was reading that morning’s _Prophet_ in a staffroom chair. Harry stumbled from the fireplace with the cupboard.

“Morning, Neville,” Harry said. Neville looked quizzically at the cupboard. “Oh—boggart.”

“Ah. The students will love that.”

“That’s the plan. Neville, is it…unusual for professors to take over a week returning essays to the students?”

“No, but that’s usually when the students start getting restless, so most try to do it before then,” Neville said.

“They’re certainly…restless,” Harry muttered. He dropped the cupboard and levitated it.

“Here, I’ll walk with you,” Neville offered. He folded up the _Prophet_ and stood. “I was about to head to my office anyway.”

They set off together, weaving themselves and the massive furniture piece through the sea of groggy students.

“How’s Al? Any news on when he’ll get out?”

“ _Tomorrow_ , if we’re lucky. I think Ginny was praying when I left her this morning…sounded like she was going alphabetically through a mental list of every deity possible…”

Neville laughed. “ _Ginny_? Things must be getting worse with Albus.”

“He’s acting exactly as you’d expect a perfectly healthy teenage boy cooped up inside a hospital with his parents all day to act. He surly, he’s bored, he’s desperate for escape. If his legs actually cooperated, he’d probably try to make a run for it.” Harry motioned nervously for a throng of first years to jump out of the way. They narrowly avoided being smashed by the cupboard. He continued once their path was clear. “Albus told Ginny to ' _go away and leave him alone'_ this morning.”

Neville winced. “Yikes. I’ll send Ginny flowers later. How’s she handling that?”

“She said: ‘mark it down—Albus’s brief stint as the Potter Mummy’s Boy has ended on this day’. And then she cried for hours…”

“She did not _cry_ ,” Neville grinned.

Harry grinned back. “No, she didn’t. She left. Wasn’t even ten minutes before Albus called her back in—said he felt guilty, but I think it was because he needed the loo and he refuses to ask anybody but me or Ginny to help him walk.”

“Is he coming back here once he’s released? What’s he going to do about the walking issue? Hogwarts isn’t exactly very accessible…I’ve had words with McGonagall and the Ministry about it on many occasions, but apparently it’s impossible to put in lifts due to the structure of the castle…”

“He gets around all right with a cane and somebody at his other side. I’ve spoken with all his professors. He’ll be given as much time as he needs to get to and from class. And—this will probably make the entire thing worth it to him—I’ve worked it out with McGonagall for him to have an assistant to help him around who can also be late to class.”

“And I’m guessing Mr. Scorpius Malfoy is ready to fill that role.”

“Oddly enough, Scorpius is probably who McGonagall would’ve picked even if he and Albus weren’t together. He’s perfectly suited for any role that involves helping others.”

“Always hilarious considering what his father was like at his age and how much Scorpius physically favors him.”

“You’re not kidding. I do a double-take sometimes.”

More students flooded their path.

“Move, please!” Harry yelled. “I don’t want to hit anybody—Rosamund! Move!”

The third-year Gryffindor darted to the right, only to weave back forward towards them. Harry noticed as she approached that she was gripping her left hand. Her fingers were bleeding profusely.

“Professor Longbottom!” she cried. “Professor Longbottom, look!”

She held out her hand. Harry and Neville stopped walking. Harry grimaced. Something seemed to have taken a chunk out of her fingers.

“What happened?” Neville asked worriedly. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and reached forward, gently wrapping it around Ophelia Rosamund’s injured hand. He squeezed gently to apply pressure. “Did you keep that illegal fly trap even after I told you to bring it to my office?”

She bit her lip. Her eyes filled steadily with tears. Neville’s sternness faded immediately.

“Don’t cry, it’s all right,” he told her kindly. “You’re all right; Madam Pomfrey can fix this in a second. Let’s go to the Hospital Wing…come along…” Neville gently guided Ophelia forward. “Bye, Harry.”

“Bye, good luck with the fly trap.”

Harry was nearly to his classroom when he caught a brief glance of red hair. He turned around automatically, following it with his eyes. He stared down towards the end of the corridor. Lily—that had to be Lily, he knew that shade of red anywhere, and she was walking like Lily. But _who the hell_ was the _boy_ with his arm around her shoulders? Harry hardly noticed the students knocking into his wardrobe. He squinted. His heart jumped as he caught the unmistakable flash of Slytherin green as the boy shifted slightly to the right to point something out to Lily. Harry stared dumbly as they disappeared.

He was still shocked as he set the wardrobe down at the front of his classroom. He was pushing desks back against the far walls, his mind a million miles away, when he heard somebody enter. A familiar, flowery scent followed.

“You could use magic to do that,” Ginny greeted.

“Need to do it this way,” Harry muttered. For a moment, he didn’t process that Ginny was there. And then he turned. “Wait—what are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she said. She pulled her wand out and sent some of the last desks towards the walls. “I made the mistake of trying to comb Albus’s hair. He told me: ‘please go away for a few hours before I lose my mind’. He was fairly annoyed. I think he’ll actually make it two hours this time before he sends Vic looking for me.”

She walked over and sat atop his desk. She swung her legs in a very Lily-esque fashion. Harry remembered why he felt so sick to his stomach.

“Gin, I think Lily’s got a boyfriend.”

He said it in a way somebody might say _I think our child’s run away_ or _I think our child’s starting a blood supremacists’ cult._ Ginny didn’t seem half as affected by the news. In fact, she only looked mildly interested.

“Really? Why do you think that?”

“She was—I saw her—she was walking with a _boy_! And his _arm_ was around her! And he was a _Slytherin_!”

Ginny valiantly fought back her laughter. “Are you sure it wasn’t Scorpius?”

“No! It wasn’t Scorpius! Why are you laughing? This is serious!”

She rolled her eyes. “First of all—just because he’s got his arm around her doesn’t mean she’s dating him. She’s Lily. Loads of boys probably put their arms around her.”

“Loads of boys try—but she pushes their arms right off! I’ve seen it!”

“Okay, so, she decided she was all right with _this_ boy doing it. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“She’s _thirteen_!” he exploded, horrified, shaken.

“And I’d be very concerned if you told me that she was snogging somebody against a wall. He had his _arm_ around her _shoulders_ , Harry. So what?”

“So— _so_! Arms around shoulders lead to—other things! Bad things!” 

“Harry.”

“No, don’t… _Harry_ me! You were never a teenage boy!”

“No, but I spent the majority of my life around them. Lily can hold her own. You’re really panicking over nothing, you know. And I find this _extremely_ hypocritical considering James and Nora have practically been joined at the hip since they met at King’s Cross at age _eleven_.”

“That’s different. That’s _extremely_ different because I trust _James_ , I know he’s good kid and that he would never pressure Nora or anybody else into anything, but this _Slytherin boy—_ ”

“Please remember that our son is in Slytherin when you take that tone.”

“…Sorry. Sort of,” he dismissed. “Look. I couldn’t see who that kid was. He could be a Death Eater’s son, Ginny!”

“You know who _else_ is a Death Eater’s son and happens to be dating one of our children?”

“Scorpius is a shining exception to everything!”

“And this boy could be, too!”

“I’m not willing to wait and find out!”

“Don’t you go meddling in her love life, Harry! She isn’t stupid and she’s going to have a hard enough time when we tell her we’re moving here, do you really think having her father interrogate some random boy who had his arm around her will make her any more eager for—”

“ _Love life?! Love_ life?! She’s thirteen! Thirteen! Lulu! Thirteen! Baby! Our _baby!”_ His face was throbbing in his anger. He was getting a headache. “ _Thirteen! Lulu!_ ”

“…I see now that you’ve honestly lost it and there’s no point in arguing with you.”

“Oh, just—just—go back to St. Mungo’s!” he raged, without thinking it through. “I’ll handle this myself!”

He regretted the words not even two seconds after he’d uttered them. His heart plummeted with nauseating speed—mostly because he hadn’t meant that at all. His wife was staring at him, her eyebrows lifted in affront. 

“Sent away again,” she finally said coolly. “Fine.”

She slid off the desk. Harry watched her walk to the door. _Wait, no_ , was building up his throat when she stopped walking and turned, her eyes flashing.

“Merlin forbid—if there is ever a day that I’m _not_ here to be sent away—I think you and Al might both come to appreciate my meddling a bit more.”

Harry cursed loudly after she walked off. He aimed a kick at the wardrobe. He heard somebody clear their throat. He turned around to see Aster Boot watching him curiously.

“Are you okay, Harry?” she asked innocently.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just wishing I couldn’t speak.”

“That’s an odd thing to wish for. What’s the wardrobe for?”

“Boggart,” Harry said shortly. He watched Aster walk over to the spot her desk normally was. She sat down on the ground. Harry swallowed his angry tears.

“Where’s Lily, Aster?”

Aster didn’t meet his eyes. “Oh…here, there, everywhere, nowhere…who can tell with her?”

“You could tell. You’re her best friend.”

Aster looked up. She mimed locking her lips shut. Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Who’s she with?” he demanded.

She busied herself with pulling items from her bag. “No idea what you mean, Professor.”

“I saw her walking with a boy.”

“We walk with loads of boys. They’re funny.”

“A _Slytherin_ boy.”

She didn’t look surprised. She gave him no reaction at all. “Well, one-fourth of the boys in our year are in Slytherin.”

“Aster!”

She looked up at him. Her dark eyes held nothing but brave determination.

“Professor Potter, I will not betray my best friend. Would you like to give me detention for that?”

Harry took a moment to silently bemoan the fact that Lily always seemed to find the sassiest peers to associate herself with.

“You know I’m not going to give you detention,” Harry finally grumbled.

“Oh, good, because I really didn’t want it.”

Harry turned back around to his desk. He pretended to sort through papers. He closed his eyes tightly. He was filled with so much regret that it made him ill.

“You know,” Aster said, “when my mum and dad fight, it’s always over really silly stuff. Crossword puzzles, work things, one time they got into a fight over the history of candlelight...one time my dad said ‘Padma, I can’t even be in the same room with you right now!’. It was bad. They hurt each other’s feelings. Then my dad went and he bought ten roses for every mean word that he’d said. And it worked. So you should do that, too.”

“I’m not fighting with Lily’s mum,” Harry muttered.

“You are so! She stormed right out of here! I was standing outside the door!” Aster paused for a second. “When Leo’s mums fight they write songs for each other—”

“Aster, I’m _not_ talking about marital disagreements with you.”

“Fine…only trying to help…Lily wouldn’t live through a divorce, I just know it.”

“Nobody’s getting a divorce.”

“Statistically, somebody definitely is right as we speak.”

Harry sat down in his seat. He lowered his forehead down onto the desk. That’s where he stayed until the rest of his students began filing in, and after the last entered, Lily still hadn’t arrived. Harry was beginning to panic, though he was trying his hardest to hide it.

“Hi. All right. So.”

“Do you have our essays to hand back?” Evandrus Davies asked.

Harry sighed. “No. I don’t. I will soon. Today we’re going to do a practical lesson—we’re going to learn how to get rid of boggarts.”

A thrill went through the classroom like a shock. Students perked up and began whispering excitedly to their peers. 

“If we have time afterwards, we’ll continue working on our Patronuses. Okay. What we’re going to do is very simple…--”

The classroom door opened. To Harry’s intermingled surprise and joy, his two favorite girls in the entire world walked in. His heart skipped a beat as he briefly locked eyes with Ginny. She had Lily sternly by the upper arm.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said stiffly. “Just returning a wayward student to you.”

The classroom had erupted into excited whispers again at the sudden appearance of Mrs. Potter. Harry arched an eyebrow at Lily. She crossed her arms and refused to meet his eyes. Ginny gently nudged her forward.

“Go on,” she told their daughter.

Lily stomped her way over to Aster’s side. Emi Crescent leaned forward and patted Lily’s hair. Ginny turned to leave, and Harry’s stomach rolled again—

“Wait. Stay.”

She paused, but she didn’t turn around. Harry swallowed and shot a quick look at his eavesdropping students. He walked over and stood beside Ginny, so both their backs were to his students. He stared at his feet and whispered his words so quickly and quietly that even Ginny might’ve missed them.

“I didn’t mean it. Please stay.”

Ginny didn’t say anything for a moment. And then:

“I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings like that.”

He could tell regret had been eating her alive, too. He hesitantly turned to the side. She did the same. They locked eyes. She was the first to give a halfhearted smile, one Harry returned as a bright beam. Relief nearly floored him.

“Okay?” he asked. He was asking many things within that one word: _are you okay? Are you okay to stay? Are we okay?_

She nodded. Her eyes shifted to the wardrobe. “Boggarts?”

“Yeah. Want to help?”

“All right,” she agreed easily.

Harry felt much lighter and more confident as he walked back to the front of the classroom. He smiled at his students.

“Okay, before I get into the spell itself, I see a few of you look nervous. If you don’t want to do this in front of the class, that’s perfectly all right. You may sit along the wall and observe. We can set up a time for you to come by my office and do it on your own. Is everybody okay with that?”

Murmurs of agreement spread across the classroom. Lily walked forward, grabbed Ginny’s hand, and pulled her over to stand with her and her friends. Harry was still grinning as he began instruction on the spell itself. By the time he finished, students were fighting over places in the queue. Harry stood beside the wardrobe.

“Remember,” he instructed. “Don’t let the fear take over. Force your mind to see it as something funny—something funny enough to make you laugh as we discussed, that’s the most important part—and then cast the spell. Don’t panic if you don’t manage. Just move to the back of the queue; it’ll take the form of the worst fear of person behind you and you can try again. Ready, Cresswell?”

Leo Cresswell nodded. He looked every inch a Gryffindor, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, his shoulders squared, his eyes locked on the wardrobe. Harry was marveling his nerve. And then Harry opened the wardrobe, released the boggart, and it turned…into a brown rabbit.

Leo let out an almighty shriek. For his classmates’ benefit, hardly any of them laughed; most of them managed to contain it.

“Okay, er…make it _funnier_ …” Harry advised. But how did one make something as innocent as a rabbit funny?

“O-okay…okay…I can do this…” Leo said, trembling. He took a deep breath. He shot a quick, self-conscious look Lily’s way, but Lily was involved in a whispered conversation with Aster and wasn’t even paying attention. Harry saw Ginny nudge Lily and point towards the front.

“ _Riddikulus_!” Leo cried.

Nothing happened. The rabbit hopped closer to Leo. He shrieked again.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

“Put it on a broom!” somebody called out.

“Put it in cute clothes!” somebody else said.

“Make it sing!”

Leo screwed his eyes shut. “ _Riddikulus_!”

There was the sound of a crack. The rabbit found itself wearing women’s high-heel shoes. Leo gave a shaky chuckle. It wasn’t near enough to finish the boggart off, but Harry had expected (and counted) on that; he wanted every student to have a try.  

“Nice work, Leo!” he praised loudly, hoping to boost Leo’s confidence for the next round. Harry could feel Ginny’s eyes on him, and when he met her glance, she was smiling at him with a familiar intensity in her eyes. His ears burned. He cleared his throat and ushered Leo back to the end of the queue.

Quinton Bell turned a manticore into a house cat that remarkably resembled McGonagall’s animagus form; Emi Crescent turned a vampire’s fangs into butterflies; Aster Boot turned a churning, raging sea into a wading pool complete with Muggle rubber ducks. When Lily stepped forward, Harry was confident that he already knew what the boggart would turn into. When she was six-years-old, a boggart had moved into the space beneath her bed while they were gone on a month long holiday. They’d returned late at night and had immediately sent her to bed, only to hear her hysterical shrieks only moments later. Harry had sprinted up the stairs in record time, blasted Lily’s bedroom door open in a panic, only to find her hopping around with her eyes shut, trying her hardest to beat a basilisk to death with her stuffed dragon. 

He was prepared now. He moved around to be closer to the class in case the appearance of the giant serpent caused a panic (Quinton’s manticore had nearly caused a Ravenclaw boy to pass out). Lily stood firmly in place, wand held ready, eyes fiercely locked on the cupboard doors. She had the stance of somebody ready to square off against a basilisk. But when the boggart shifted shape, it didn’t turn into what Harry had expected.

It split off into many different parts, and everybody watched as those parts morphed into people. Slowly, they took the form of her family and her friends. The class was silent as one by one every person Lily cared about began to laugh. It was clear after a moment that it was aimed at _her_.

Harry was taken aback, but not nearly as taken aback as Lily.

“ _Pathetic, the youngest Potter, helpless and frail…”_ said Teddy’s boggart form.

 _“She’s such a baby, my baby sister…useless…”_ said boggart-James.

_“Can’t even protect herself,” boggart-Ginny sang, “because she’s so frightened all the time…”_

And worst of all was boggart-Harry, who sneered at Lily and said: _‘You may have everybody else fooled, but I know, deep down, you’re just a weak little girl—”_

Lily was at a loss of how to make this funny; it was obvious she hadn’t anticipated it. Her wide eyes flickered from face to face as they continued undermining Lily’s ability and power, reminding her of how ‘weak and frightened’ she was until she actually _began_ to look both weak and frightened. Harry was preparing to jump in front of her, but Ginny beat him to it.

The figures vanished. The boggart seemed to pause, as if unable to decide what form to take, until: James was curled up on the floor, sobbing so hard he sounded near hyperventilation—but then: Hagrid was carrying Harry’s limp body from the Forbidden Forest—but no, the boggart changed its mind again: Albus was lying alone, shivering, calling for his mum in a broken, pain-soaked voice—Lily was screaming in pain and writhing—

“Oh, would you _hold still,_ you evil, nasty creature— _Riddikulus_!”

 _Crack_. Two figures split from Lily. James and Albus reappeared, but this time they hoisted Lily into the air until she began laughing. James cracked a silly joke, one he used to tell all the time when he was younger about a garden gnome and Father Christmas. Ginny gave a slightly exaggerated laugh; the boggart disappeared, though Harry was certain it’d be back soon.

Silence settled over the classroom.

“Well that was emotionally violating,” Ginny finally said. A few students laughed. Ginny pointed sternly at the class. “If any of this ends up in any magazine or tabloid, I’ll know _exactly_ who to find. I never forget a face.”

“ _Damn_ ,” somebody hissed.

“Er,” Harry said, before any of his students thought challenging Mrs. Potter on that was a good idea, “anyone else?”

Nobody dared to take a step forward, obviously worried they’d end up vulnerable and embarrassed in front of the entire class like Lily had been. Harry glanced Lily’s way. Her expression was already hardened defensively as if _daring_ anybody to tease her.

“Er…sometimes, if the boggart can’t decide what your worst fear is, it sort of…you know…hobbles together a…universal fear…” he was lying. He didn’t want to lie. But he wanted to save Lily’s reputation.

“That’s not what the book said, Lily’s Dad,” Evandrus Davies argued immediately. “In fact, the book said if it can’t determine your worse fear, it will rotate through all of them! Like we saw with Lily’s Mum.”

“Ginny,” Harry corrected automatically. “Or—Mrs. Potter.”

Like every other correction on titles, Evandrus ignored him. Harry sighed.

“All right, we’re done for the day. Those of you who didn’t go—stay behind so I can schedule a time for you to come by my office.”

Lily stood by Ginny’s side in the back of the classroom as Harry scrawled down the students who hadn’t gone and the time for them to meet with him. Once the last person left, Lily huffed.

“Your boggart’s broken, Dad.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“It’s not broken and there’s nothing wrong with your fear,” Ginny said immediately.

“Yes there is. I really thought it’d be something else.”

Harry walked over and joined them. He pulled Lily into his arms. She sniffled into his cloak.

“You can’t expect your fears to remain the same as they were when you were six, Lulu,” he said gently.

Lily leaned back and looked up at Harry. “What?”

“The boggart underneath your bed when you were six. Turned into a basilisk. Remember?”

Lily blinked. “Oh. I’d forgotten about that. That wasn’t what I thought it’d turn into.”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. “What did you think you’d see?”

She sniffled. “I thought—I thought it would show me Opal in a tiny cage.”

“Oh, Lu,” Ginny said gently. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Lily and Harry.

“I was g-going to make him burn the cage open and breathe glitter.”

“That would’ve been a good one,” Harry said soothingly. “Don’t worry, Lily—they don’t always show what you think they will. You’re not the first person this has happened to.”

Lily looked up at Ginny. “Did you know, Mum? Did it show what you thought it would?”

Harry was certain that it had—Ginny hadn’t looked shocked at all, merely distressed. Ginny managed a smile.

“No—I thought I’d see James’s eight future kids,” she teased. Harry and Lily both laughed. Ginny tapped Lily’s nose. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your next class. Charms, right?”

Lily sniffed and nodded. She took her mum’s hand. They set off towards the Charms classroom while Harry shut the wardrobe doors. Just as he’d suspected, the boggart had only retreated back inside; he heard the trademark scratching soon after Ginny left.

* * *

 

He was growing anxious. Nearly every fifth year Hufflepuff and Slytherin was in the classroom—except for Scorpius. He hovered nervously near the classroom door, peeking out to scan the corridors every few moments, in case somebody had stopped Scorpius on his way.

“Are you okay, Professor?”

He wasn’t even sure who asked.

“Perfect,” he lied, without even turning back around.

“Do you have our essays—”

“ _No_ , I do not have the essays. You will be the first person to know when I _do_ have the essays.”

He hadn’t meant to sound that harsh. He turned around.

“Erm. Everybody queue up in front of the wardrobe, please.”

At the very last moment before the lesson was due to begin, Scorpius and Ginny entered. They were laughing, so Harry took that to mean nothing dangerous had befallen Scorpius. He wasn’t even sure when somebody would’ve had the opportunity to hurt him, anyway; James, Nora, Ben Wood, and Evvie Wilson had taken a personal interest in Scorpius’s wellbeing. It was rare to find Scorpius in the library without one of them nearby. And he was still sleeping in the Room of Requirement, something McGonagall and Slughorn were turning a blind eye to. Harry supposed he was just paranoid, and really, he had every right to be.

Scorpius went to stand at the back of the queue. Ginny approached the front and gently grabbed onto Harry’s arm, tugging him a few steps to the side. He studied her eyes.

“Yes?”

“Scorpius wants to do his boggart in your office, not here,” Ginny whispered.

Harry nodded. “I assumed. Are you staying?”

“For a bit, yeah.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “Let’s see you do your thing, Professor Potter.”

She had the audacity to wink, and Harry’s students didn’t miss it. Cackles and whistles flooded the room. His cheeks burned…but that didn’t stop him from grinning soppily at her as she walked over and sat along the far wall. He gave himself a moment and then shook his head.

“All right, today we’re—all right, that’s enough! Seriously, stop. Stop whistling!”

“The Boy Who Sh—!”

“Finish that sentence and enjoy spending your Saturday nights with me, Bigelow.”

Everybody quickly quieted.

“Right. We’re doing a practical lesson today. I’m sure many of you raised within wizarding families have already learned how to do this, but I know for a fact that a good portion of you have never had the opportunity, so today we’re going to learn how to banish boggarts.”

A few students groaned, but the majority looked excited. Harry came to stand in front of the wardrobe. He gave his instructions, instructed those who didn’t wish to do the activity publically to go sit along the wall, and then pulled the wardrobe doors open again. Rina Matthewson turned a werewolf into a Golden Retriever puppy; Malcolm Bletchley made his centipede breakdance; Sigmund Stone’s boggart morphed into lightning which he then (annoyingly) turned into Harry and his trademark scar. The class was laughing raucously now, working quickly through the boggart, passing it from one person to the next at a dizzying rate. A Slytherin girl was the first to falter; her boggart turned into a massive rat, and instead of trying the spell, she shrieked and ran over to the back of the classroom. The boggart followed. People were laughing, Harry was encouraging her to stand her ground and try, classmates were calling out suggestions, and in the midst of the chaos, Harry failed to notice where she was leading the boggart.

She was terrified. When she dove behind Iset Goyle—who was sitting along the wall, opting out like Scorpius—he couldn’t really blame her; she had shut down in fear. But what happened next made everybody jump. Suddenly, when faced with Iset instead of the Slytherin, the giant rat morphed into a massively beefy man. His hands were clenched in meaty fists. His body was curved forward, bearing down over Iset. Adult Gregory Goyle opened his mouth, and at once, horrible things came out in a harsh, vicious bark: _Worthless, stupid, I never wanted you, I told your mother to get_ rid _of you, disgusting—_

Everybody was so shocked by the nastiness of it that nobody moved. That is, except for Scorpius. Before Harry or Ginny could say a word, he rose from his seat and stepped in front of Iset.

Harry didn’t know how he knew, but he did. The second the boggart began to swirl and shift, he sprinted across the classroom. He was just a moment too late. It sank down to the floor and took form. It became Albus— Albus lying on his back on the floor, in a deep pool of blood, dead.

Harry pushed Scorpius back into his chair and took his spot. He couldn’t care about what his own boggart would show because he was still reeling from the sight of Albus’s blood-soaked, lifeless form. His hands were shaking. He felt liable to vomit. He just—needed that to go away. He couldn’t see Albus like that. Not ever again. It had to go away.

The boggart decided what Harry’s worst fear was.

He was looking at himself.

Rapid, confused whispering spread across the classroom. Harry stared at his boggart. And his boggart stared back at him. Harry examined his double’s form as his heartbeat pounded out an anxious rhythm. Lightning scar, glasses, unruly hair, _I must not tell lies._ Nearly everything was the same—except for his boggart’s left hand. Harry instinctively lifted his own. He touched his wedding band. And he understood with a wave of fear exactly what he was seeing in front of him.

 _Focus…funny…something funny…it’s not real. It’s not real. They exist. You aren’t alone. It isn’t true. You_ do _have a family. You’re not alone anymore. You’re no longer the only Potter. It isn’t true…_

 _“Riddikulus_!”

There was a ripple in his double’s form as the Boggart split off into four new pieces. Boggart Harry was enveloped in hugs as his family appeared suddenly behind him. Harry’s laugh was one of relief more than anything else, but his spell had done the trick. The boggart dissolved and sped back towards the wardrobe. Harry could feel every set of eyes on him.

“Er…so…did everybody get a go?”

Murmurs of affirmation. Harry realized his wand hand was trembling slightly. He pushed it into his pocket. So much for his fun, lighthearted practical lesson; nearly everybody looked a bit disturbed.

“I…incorrectly assumed…that we would be dealing with loads of boggart spiders,” Harry finally said. Thankfully, a few students laughed. “But this is the reality of boggarts. They can be horribly nasty. You have to be prepared to face whatever it is that frightens you the most. You all did really, really well.”

Gradually, the students’ expressions shifted to something a bit more pleased.

“You can leave if you wish. Don’t forget the homework due Monday.”

“Professor Potter—”

“ _Yes,_ I will have your essays back to you by then.”  

“About time,” somebody murmured. Harry resisted the urge to glare. The students gathered their bags from the back wall and began migrating towards the exit, but Ginny stood and called them to a stop.

“Wait a moment,” she instructed, and immediately, everybody froze. “Please don’t let me catch any of you selling information from this lesson to trashy tabloids. I work with the _Prophet_ , you see, and when they say ‘a confidential source’? It’s not always confidential. Everybody in our world would do well to remember that.”

A few Hufflepuff boys made a suggestive comment that sounded suspiciously like _we’d do anything you asked of us, Mrs. Potter._ Harry _did_ glare this time. They had the decency to pause their snickering and look moderately contrite.

“Don’t worry, we’re not idiots,” Sigmund Stone spoke up. He gestured around at his fellow fifth years. “ _We_ don’t want to get on the Potters’ bad side. Look what happened to Rita Skeeter.”

Conversation bloomed amongst the standing students. Harry’s eyes automatically sought out Saul Montague.

“Yeah, funny what happened to her,” Saul said, his eyes locking with Harry’s. “She—like many others—dared to speak out with an opinion opposite from Harry Potter’s, and lo and behold, she found herself in Azkaban.”

Harry’s hand clenched into a fist inside of his pocket, but he forced himself to maintain a calm outward expression. Ginny sounded amused.

“Saul Montague, I’m assuming,” she said.

“Yeah? And?” Saul challenged.

“Oh, nothing. I just find it beneficial to know the names of people who openly imply that Death Eaters shouldn’t be in Azkaban.”

Harry had really hoped to get through this lesson without having another argument with Saul Montague, but judging by the way everybody was paused and staring, another one was building.

“There are more of us than you know,” Saul finally said, in a decidedly threatening tone. Ginny lifted her eyebrows. “More of us _here_ than you could imagine.”

“Yeah, sorry, but you won’t intimidate me with that. I was here during the _real_ Death Eater reign, not this silly Junior replay. And…not to discourage you or your mates…but we won back then, too. And we were only sixteen and seventeen.”

A Slytherin girl, Claire Theva, came to stand beside Saul. She appraised Ginny with cold eyes.

“Let’s go, Saul,” she said. She turned him. As they were walking, she distinctly mumbled to him: _if we’re not a threat, then how did we almost murder her son?_ They both sniggered quietly. Iset, who was standing close enough to overhear, audibly gasped.

Harry _could’ve_ reached out and taken Ginny’s hand to prevent her from blocking their exit, but he was hoping she’d Scourgify their mouths out. She stepped in front of the two students and stared hard at them; Saul automatically retreated two steps.  

“That’s funny, is it? Killing your peers? Your fellow classmates? Hey—who here thinks that’s funny? No, honestly. Raise your hands and face me. Who thinks it’s hilarious that Albus almost died?”

Nobody moved an inch, including Saul and Claire.

“Oh, see, this is funnier,” Ginny continued, her eyes landing back on Saul and Claire. Her voice had turned cold. “You’ve got the guts to whisper it to each other, but you don’t have the guts to say it to his mother’s face. Here’s a bit of advice from somebody who knows Death Eaters a hell of a lot better than you two ever will: a real Death Eater would’ve killed my ‘blood traitor’ son and made me watch. A real Death Eater would’ve tortured him for hours before finally letting him die. A _real_ Death Eater _—_ no, where are you going? You ought to know exactly what you’re modeling yourselves after.” Saul and Claire froze again in the process of stepping past Ginny. “A real Death Eater would find no objection to killing an infant all because of a hypothetical prophecy that they hadn’t even heard in full. A real Death Eater would murder their own family. All these _tragic, lost_ Death Eater parents, who never got to raise their poor children due to imprisonment or death, they would’ve killed those same children in the blink of an eye if Lord Voldemort suggested it.”

Nobody was breathing. Claire looked close to tears.

“You’re all so young. You don’t understand,” Ginny continued. “You didn’t see what it was like. Time has dimmed the horrors for you because you don’t have any personal memories of it. All you have are personal recounts from biased family members and what’s written in history books, and I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself the history books are biased in Harry Potter’s favor. But if you’d like some solid evidence—if ever you find yourself wanting to know the real truth—I, Professor Longbottom, and many others have got plenty of scars we can show you. You can look at ours. And then you can ask your ex-Death Eater relatives how many scars _we_ gave _them._ I think you’ll find that says it all.”

For an extended moment, nobody moved. Finally, Saul and Claire fled the classroom, walking quickly, their faces burning in embarrassment. One by one, students trickled after. Ginny caught Scorpius before he ducked from the classroom. She pulled him into a tight, affectionate hug, one the boy immediately sank into.

“When I said _real_ Death Eaters,” she whispered gently, “I meant those who wanted to be there—not those forced to be there because of their parents or because of Voldemort’s threats. Do you understand?”

Scorpius nodded against her shoulder. Harry turned to give them a moment because he could tell Scorpius was upset. His eyes fell on the last lingering pupil—Iset. She almost always lingered at the end of lessons, taking ages to pack up her parchment, her quills, her books. Harry was certain there was something she wanted to talk to him about, but she never could work up the nerve to do it, no matter how many conversations he started or how many gentle prods he gave.

He walked over and sat down in the seat beside the one her bag was resting in. She glanced up at him.

“Your boggart reminded me of my Uncle Vernon,” he said. “Looks like they share a similar parenting style.”

Iset pursed her lips. Her shaky hands fumbled with the zipper on her bag. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Harry said. He watched her struggle with the zipper for another moment and then he leaned forward to do it for her.

“Thanks,” she said, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Iset, is there something you want to talk to me about?”

She met his eyes. And up until the moment she spoke, he was _certain_ she was finally going to come clean; the look in her eyes begged for help.

“No, Professor.”

He frowned. “Because if there was…you could. Whatever is wrong…it isn’t too big to deal with.”

“No, Professor.”

“If you want to talk to somebody…if you need help…but you can’t talk to me, for whatever reason…my son, James. James Potter—well, that’s obvious, sorry. He’s Head Boy. He would help you. He would do everything he could. And I promise that if you told him not to, he wouldn’t tell me. He’s always in the library a little after six. Near the reference section, I believe.”

She nodded, but Harry could tell it was mostly to appease him. She stood.

“Thanks,” she told him.

Scorpius and Ginny were chatting quietly now—Scorpius was laughing, so Harry assumed he felt all right. He walked over to join them.

“And he split open his _head_?” Scorpius asked.

Harry looked between them. “Are we talking about the Shower Calamity?”

“A funny story was needed,” Ginny explained. “Anyway, so the two were supposed to be asleep—Harry and I were so proud because they’d both actually slept in their own beds then night prior, which was a _feat_ , I’m sure you understand—and I went downstairs to take over breakfast duty so Harry wouldn’t be late for work. He got into the shower—Harry, actually, maybe you should tell this?”

Harry found it easy to recall the story. “Well, I was in the shower. Everything was quiet. I thought the boys were asleep. Gin was downstairs making some horrid pregnancy-induced concoction—”

“I was not! It was breakfast!”

“It was squares of cheese floating inside cold porridge.”

“It was _delicious_.”

“Not the word I’d use to describe it…I was thinking: disturbed…unsettling…”

“Oh, would you get on with the story, Disturbed and Unsettled?”

Harry grinned. “Fine. I was showering when I heard this sudden clang. I assumed something fell downstairs. Being the concerned and loving husband that I am…I continued showering.” Ginny elbowed him. He continued. “I was washing my hair when I felt cold air. And then—James and Albus appeared out of nowhere, ran right into the shower, grabbed onto my legs, and sent me jumping up in fright. The problem was, I’d just washed my hair, so soap was all over the floor. I slipped and slammed my head on the faucet and my head was bleeding profusely. They didn’t care. James said: ‘oh, we’re taking a _bath_ in the _shower_! Yay!’. Albus said ‘Dada? Wake up? Good morning?’ and decided sitting beside me and repeatedly swatting at my face was helpful. It wasn’t.”

“James ran downstairs to find me,” Ginny added.

“But not before he’d gathered all the toys from the bathtub and thrown them into the shower.”

“He said ‘Daddy’s bleeding _so much, wow!_ And we’re playing bath in the shower!’.” Ginny recalled. “A sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

Scorpius laughed.

“In James’s defense, he sat beside Harry and kissed his head while I healed him.”

Harry looked at Ginny, amused. “What was it Albus kept saying?”

“He kept throwing toys onto your chest.”

“No, he kept saying something else—”

“Oh: ‘you okay, Dada’. He thought you were being overdramatic. ‘C’mon, you okay’.”

Scorpius fell into a fit of giggly sounding laughter. Ginny and Harry were laughing along with him, too. Ginny observed Harry with fond eyes.

“Lord Voldemort couldn’t kill you, but your three-year-old and toddler nearly had a fighting chance.”

“And if three-year-old James and toddler Albus had been the Chosen Ones, Voldemort would’ve died in half the time.”

“Oh, certainly. Without a doubt,” Ginny agreed. “And they’d say ‘whoopsie’ after the murder and try to prop Voldemort’s body up for an impromptu tea party.”

Overcome with affection, and still absolutely brimming with relief that his life was _his life_ , Harry threw caution (and routine) to the wind.

“Why don’t we go to the hospital and have lunch with Albus? All of us. Scorpius, Lily, and James, too. If we’re late coming back, we’re late.”

Scorpius grinned. “Yes! Yes, I think that’s a brilliant idea, Harry!”

“As do I,” Ginny smiled. “Albus will be thrilled to see a face other than mine.”

Scorpius was still grinning. “He’ll be thrilled to see _my_ face!”

“Beyond thrilled, I’m sure,” Ginny said. She and Harry shared a look. The boys were as inseparable as ever. Albus’s near-death experience had only served to make their bond more concrete, not that Harry had expected anything different.

* * *

 

James and Lily were happy to get a “lunch trip”. James had been especially pleased with the spontaneous lunch plans, and going by the particularly sweet way he was treating both Harry and Ginny, Harry suspected he’d either gotten into trouble or was avoiding something that was supposed to happen during the hour they’d pulled him away from school.

“ _I_ wouldn’t send you away, Mum,” James scoffed, after hearing all about Albus’s grumpy morning.  

Lily snorted. Harry rolled his eyes. Ginny leaned over and accepted the arm James slung over her shoulders. They walked side-by-side towards the lift at St. Mungo’s. James continued as they stepped on.  

“Albus is lucky,” he said, affronted, as if Albus had somehow personally insulted _him._ “He has no idea the sort of mums people have…there’s a girl in fourth year whose mum forgets her birthday every year!”

“Oh? That’s sad,” Ginny said.

“And another boy whose mum calls him all sorts of names. And we got _you_ , which was, you know, the ultimate jackpot.”

“How sweet,” Ginny said. She looked up at James. “What did you do?”

He blinked. He widened his eyes innocently. “ _What_? What did I _do_? Nothing. Why would you ask that?”

“Because you’re being so sweet you’re giving me cavities. What did you do?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to make it clear to you, Mum, that out of all your kids, I love you _best_ , and I don’t appreciate Albus invading my place in our family dynamic and then being rude to you on top of it.”

“Your _place_?”

Harry thought it was fairly obvious. James looked like he felt the same way, too. But Ginny looked genuinely confused.

“Er, yeah, Mum. My _spot_.”

“His spot as the big, pathetic Mummy’s boy,” Lily piped up. “Honestly, Mum, he takes that role very seriously.”

“Not _Mummy’s boy_ ,” James argued. “ _Mum’s boy_.”

“Is there…a distinction there?” Lily said.

“Yeah, of course there is,” James said.

Lily waited. When James failed to say anymore, she stepped in front of Harry and jabbed James’s side. “Which is?!”

The doors opened to the appropriate floor. They headed towards the Dark Magic ward.

“A Mummy’s boy is a silly, spoiled kid, but _Mum’s boy_ just means I’m Mum’s boy. It’s different.”

“You’re clearly still ‘my boy’, James. But Albus is, too,” Ginny said.

James grinned. “Yeah…but…I’m _more_ your boy.”

“Meaning?” Ginny demanded. “If you’re implying I play favorites, I do no such thing!”

“Meaning _I_ wouldn’t send you away,” James answered simply. He walked through the doorway. “Albus, did you know that some people have mums who don’t even hug them?”

Harry stepped into the ward after James. Albus was sitting weakly on the edge of the bed.

“Okay? And? What are you talking about, James?” Albus demanded, confused. Everybody else filed in. Albus beamed. “Mum! Dad! _Scorpius_!”

Scorpius bounced over to him. The boys stood and just smiled dopily at each other for a moment. Lily sighed.

“Why do I even bother coming to visit when Scorpius does? Might as well be wearing the Invisibility Cloak.”

“How has he been?” Ginny asked. Harry turned and saw she was addressing her dad. Harry hadn’t known he was visiting. Arthur folded up his newspaper and rose from the sofa along the far wall.

“Great!” he smiled. He frowned. He stepped in closer and lowered his voice. “A bit…surly. But great! We tried muggle crutches—I found the pair at a _flea market!_ Luckily, there weren’t any fleas on them.”

Harry scanned the perimeter of the ward until he spotted the dingy pair of crutches.

“How’d they work?” Harry asked.

“Oh, awful. Just _awful_. I’ve been trying to get Albus to have another go at it, but he’s refusing.”

“Why not, Albus?” Scorpius asked. He stepped over to his right and grabbed the crutches from the wall. “These might be easier than a cane.”

Albus eyed the crutches warily. “No. I fell last time.”

Scorpius went to try the crutches himself, but being adjusted for Albus’s height, there was a huge gap between the top of the crutches and his armpits. He bent over until his arms were resting on the crutches and tried to move forward, but trying to hop forward with bended knees didn’t work very well. He tilted forward and landed against the side of Albus’s bed. Albus stroked his back.

“See? Told you.”

“You’ve got to practice at it,” Arthur told Albus. “You nearly had it that last time.”

“They hurt!”

“You’ve got to get used to them,” Arthur countered. “Just one more go.”

“No.” Albus rubbed over his knees. “I hurt my knees last time.”

Scorpius propped the crutches up, turned, and hopped up to sit beside Albus. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and grinned. “‘You okay, Albus’,” he cooed, mimicking little Albus’s voice as Ginny had done earlier when they’d told Scorpius the story of the Shower Calamity. “‘C’mon, you okay’.”

Albus stared at Scorpius like he’d gone mad. Harry burst into laughter, followed shortly by Ginny, and finally Scorpius.

“Have you gone mad?” Albus demanded.

Scorpius was still laughing. He knocked his knee against Albus’s. “‘You okay, get up’.”

Realization drew over Albus’s features. He turned and huffed. “ _Mum_! Stop telling people that story! I wasn’t even two yet!”

Ginny approached. She patted Albus’s cheek. “You okay, Albus.”

Everybody was laughing now, including Albus—though he didn’t look happy about it. It took encouragement (harassment) from everybody in the room, but eventually, Albus agreed to give the crutches another go. It didn’t go very well. Harry had a feeling Albus would be forced to use a wheelchair tomorrow.

While Scorpius and Albus ‘did homework’ (something that was rapidly turning into a poorly-disguised excuse to cuddle), Harry dug Lily’s essay from his bag.

“Here you go,” he told her.

Lily eagerly took it. She unrolled it.

“An _E_?! I refute this! I deserved an _O_!”

“You were supposed to discuss _two_ things you wanted to learn, not just one.”

“But mine was a big one! A big thing! With many little parts to it!”

“So? Lily, you’ve got to follow directions. And speaking of following directions. Do _you_ want to tell me what your mother caught you doing while you were attempting to skive off my class, or do you want me to wait and ask her?”

Lily crossed her arms. “You can ask her if you want because I wasn’t doing anything wrong. She found me going to the library.”

“What were you doing going to the library?” he pressed, suspicious. 

“Trying to skive off class! It’s honestly unfair that other people can but when _I_ try my _mother_ finds me and personally delivers me back to class!”

“Well,” Harry said cheerfully. “Get used to it, Lulu. Because Mum and I are moving in.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “What? Moving in _where_?”

“Hogwarts. And guess what else? I’m your new Head of House.”

Lily wasn’t freaking out. In fact, she was smiling.

“Very funny, Dad,” she finally said. “Ha, ha. Good one.”

“I’m not joking. We’re moving in tomorrow evening.”

“ _WHAT?!”_

* * *

 

“Mum, Dad, are you _sure_ about this? Because…because there are other solutions.”

James was walking backwards ahead of them down the Hogwarts’ corridor, his arms laden with bags and boxes. Ginny was carrying five cats, the owl cage, and a cage full of Pygmy Puffs. Eoforwine was riding on Harry’s shoulder because he was frightened of the cage _and_ the cats. Harry wasn’t sure how this was going to work.

“Like what?” Ginny challenged.

“Well…you could…er…”

“Exactly. As long as our children are getting Unforgivables used on them, and as long as our children’s classmates are dabbling in Dark Magic, this is where your dad and I will be.”

“But—”

“Hey, James, what happened to your role as _my boy_? What happened to _I would never send you away_?”

“…These are peculiar circumstances, Mum.”

“Jamie, we’re only here to protect you; we’re not here to meddle. We don’t care that Nora sneaks into the boys’ dormitory. You’re both of age. Just…respect your dormmates and do _not_ get an early start on your eight babies goal. ”

“Oh,” James said brightly, relieved. “Okay, noted. And in that case: welcome home, Mum and Dad!”

Harry paused and glanced behind him to check on Albus’s progress. He and Scorpius were a bit behind. Albus was walking slowly, using his cane to support most of his weight; he’d refused the wheelchair, but Harry brought it just in case. Harry watched the candlelight catch the golden cane and shook his head again, amused. He heard the cats meowing loudly as Ginny approached him.

“I still can’t believe he’s using that,” she whispered.

“I still can’t believe Draco Malfoy thought a gold cane was a casual gift.”

“I think he’s running out of things to do in his alchemy room. He was trying to transform nickel buttons into gold last time I was there,” Ginny said. Harry snorted. “Still, it was kind of him to think of Albus. And it had to have been really difficult to make that cane. I just hope Albus isn’t bullied mercilessly…”

“Don’t worry,” Harry told Ginny. “I brought the wheelchair and the cane St. Mungo’s gave us, in case he changes his mind. But I think he genuinely likes it...”

Albus and Lily had both been begging to spend at least one night in the Room of Requirement, so James finished carrying the last of the items to the living quarters attached to Harry’s office and then set off that way with the boys and Lily. Harry stepped into their new, temporary home and looked around. The sitting room and kitchen were one, large room. The kitchen was very small and only contained a cool box, a cupboard, and a wood-burning stove, though Harry guessed they had little need for a kitchen while at Hogwarts.

The sitting room portion had a small dining table (it only had two chairs—they’d have to get more), an ancient sofa covered in faded, embroidered tropical fruits, two matching side tables on either side of the sofa, and a bookshelf containing what looked like the rejects of every past DADA professor’s collection. The window drapes looked like old bed hangings from the Gryffindor dorms. The carpet beneath their feet boasted an eclectic design made up of handstitched crowns and tiaras. The tops of the walls were lined with one long row of tall, golden candles, each glowing with a magically steady flame.

Harry sought out Ginny’s eyes once he’d examined the room. They held their gaze for a moment.

“It’s _perfect_ ,” they said in unison. They grinned.

Ginny set the cats down to roam, freed the Pygmy Puffs, and let their ancient owl (‘Egg’, confidently named such by James aged one) out of the window to hunt. Harry levitated the boxes for the bedroom through a door beside the bookshelf.

“Yeah, this is the bedroom!” he called to Ginny. He stepped in, let the boxes fall to the floor, and then stared. “The bedroom is even weirder.”

He carried Eoforwine over and set him down on one of the pillows. They’d brought their own bedding—and luckily they had; the bedding supplied was sickly-pink and velvet. The Pygmy Puff seemed to like it. Harry decided they could use it to make little nests for them and the cats. All the many…many cats. He grimaced.

The bed itself was quite smaller than he’d anticipated, but then again, their bed at home was large. The wardrobes may or may not have contained more boggarts. The dressing table mirror called out ‘ _nice eyes, handsome’_ to Harry as he passed by; that would have to be moved. He didn’t even want to _think_ about some of the things it might decide to call out to them if they left it beside the bed…

But the most offensive things in the room were the matching carpet and bed hangings.

“Oh,” Ginny said in surprise, stopping in the doorway. She immediately laughed. “Oh, Merlin. Are those _babies_ on the carpet and bed hangings?”

“They certainly…certainly are.”

Both the carpet and hangings donned thousands of chubby, naked babies holding handfuls of bright pink flowers. Harry was confused and mesmerized by their horridness.  

“Those…have got to go,” Ginny finally said, her laughter pandering off.

“I feel like they’re watching us,” Harry shuddered.

Ginny walked over. She tapped her wand against the hangings and murmured an incantation. Nothing happened.

“Seriously?” she muttered underneath her breath.

“Nice legs, madam,” the mirror drawled.

“Thanks,” Ginny said offhandedly. She paused. “Wait.”

“The mirror,” Harry explained.

She turned around. She leaned down and peered into the dressing table mirror.

“Oh my. My dear lady, might I suggest spotted eel oil for the lines beside your eyes?” the mirror said.

Ginny scowled.

“Yeah, that’s got to go, too,” she decided. “I don’t even want to hear what it’s got to say about my arse.”

“Only good things, I’m sure,” Harry said on instinct. “Did you find the bathroom? Is there a storage cupboard?”

“Bathroom is probably that door,” she pointed at a narrow door beside the bedroom fireplace. “Not sure on the cupboard. I got distracted in the spare bedroom. Wait till you meet the portrait on the wall. He told me some things about myself that I never knew before.”

Harry couldn’t say he was particularly looking forward to that.

He went out into the sitting room to begin unpacking. Ginny gasped a moment later.

“Harry!” she called from the bedroom. “I found the bathroom!”

“Oh, good. Is it the door beside the fireplace?”

“Yes. Harry.”

“What?”

“The _bathtub._ ”

A moment later, the sound of rushing water echoed out into the sitting room. Harry looked up from the opened box. Well…they’d have plenty of time to unpack tomorrow. He closed the lid back and stood up.

“Oi! Wait for me!”

“What—do you think the bathtub is going somewhere? Hurry up.”

“If I catch that mirror ogling at us…” Harry eyed it suspiciously as he crossed into the bedroom. He narrowed his eyes at it as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the mirror said. “Your eyes aren’t _that_ nice.”

“The mirror is rude and he lies,” Ginny said, appearing at the bathroom doorway. She pulled Harry’s cloak off as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Your eyes _are_ that nice.”

Harry resisted the sudden, childish urge to stick his tongue out at the mirror.

“I _never_ lie,” the mirror scoffed. “It’s against my very nature.”

“And he’s argumentative! He’s going first thing.”

“Good luck,” the mirror snickered. “Toad-face tried for months to get rid of me.”

Harry couldn’t care less what the mirror was saying. He heard it and then promptly forgot about it. There were more important things in this moment: namely, the massive, pool-like bathtub with dozens of faucets.

* * *

 

“I’m not kissing you,” Harry said.

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s a mirror. We’ve pulled the hangings shut.”

“No—I can’t, it just feels creepy with it listening,” he shuddered.

“I’m not telling you to loudly and graphically shag me, Harry! I’m only trying to kiss you goodnight.”

“Nice try. We were only going to kiss each other goodnight the night we made Albus, too.”

“…Okay, you’ve got me there.” She turned over onto her side, facing the closed bed curtains. She yawned. “‘Night, Harry.”

Harry waited. He waited for a sneak kiss. But it never came. He opened one eye and rolled over onto his side, so he was facing Ginny’s back. He stared at her form in disbelief. She was going to sleep! He had never _really_ intended on going to sleep without a goodnight kiss. Unbelievable!

He crossed his arms and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear the faint murmurings of the portrait in the guest bedroom singing a wizard nursery rhyme. He sneaked another glance at Ginny. Had he hurt her feelings? No—she would’ve told him if he’d hurt her feelings. Why didn’t she realize he didn’t really want what he thought he wanted?

With a sigh, he scooted over, closer and closer, until the space between them was eliminated. He tucked his body around hers. And then he leaned over her and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“‘Night,” he finally said. He could feel the rise of her cheek as she smiled.

“Knew it. Knew you couldn’t do it.”

He grinned. He kissed her cheek.

“Don’t get a big head.”

“Mmm…I’ll consider it.”

She rolled over to face him. He was content to share quiet, sleepy kisses. His heart warmed to the temperature of a comforting bath. He didn’t even find the creepy babies on the hangings as distracting as he’d thought he would; they quickly became part of the background. After all…every DADA professor had had to deal with them…unless the last had added them…though who would _ever_ like something as unpleasant and sickeningly sweet as _those_? _No one_ , Harry thought, _except maybe—_

 _Toad-face._ Toad-face. Toad-face!

Harry jumped back from Ginny, horrified.

“ _No_!” he shouted.

“Er…did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, _Merlin_ …oh, _God_ …”

“Oh ‘god’?” Ginny repeated, quizzical. “Blimey, what did I do to deserve that?”

Harry rolled over onto his back. He itched at the phantom-bugs on his arms. He shuddered.

“Umbridge. Umbridge slept in this bed, Gin!”

Ginny was quiet. He glanced over at her. She was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

“Right. DADA living quarters. ‘Toad-face’. Umbridge. She slept…right where…we are right now?”

“The babies, Ginny. These foul babies. Who else?”

The mirror gave a sudden cackle. “Toad-face showed me much worse things than a goodnight kiss.”

The Potters shot off the bed like they’d been shocked.

“ _Ugh_!” Ginny cried. She jumped up and down in place as if trying to shake off the creepiness. Harry dusted his pajama bottoms off as if he’d sat in dirt. Ginny reached over mid-hop and snatched up the pillow she’d brought from their house. “No. _No!_ I’m _sleeping in the bathtub_!”

“Hang on, wait for me. I’ll get our bedding from the box in the sitting room.”

“ _Ugh_!”


	8. Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus returns to Hogwarts-- but it's not the same Hogwarts that he left behind. Lily continues to plot, James begins to feel the strain of his hectic life, and Scorpius and Albus struggle to stick to their earlier plans. The Sevens stage a protest, the Slug Club has its first dinner party, and Hogwarts is invaded by unwelcome visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, it's been a hectic week! Doing my best to catch up on replies and such. Thanks for reading, commenting, and/or leaving kudos!

**INSIDE AZKABAN’S WALLS: RITA SKEETER SPEAKS OUT**

 

> Azkaban is hardly fit for the rats that join my slumber—and yet I am one of the hundreds of humans imprisoned inside of its ghastly walls. I sit today in a damp and dingy prison cell that harbors the unrelenting stench of human urine and fear. I have been given a scantly ten fluid ounce bowl of lukewarm broth; a roll of something that was once, in its prime, brown bread; and one slender grapefruit slice (without sugar). The pains of hunger wrack my body nearly as much as the pains of exhaustion. All around me, people weep.
> 
> One week ago, I was sitting in my sunny cottage kitchen, listening to my parrot Pear-Pear sing his customary good morning song. I was dipping homemade breadsticks into a lovely honey-cheese spread (a Skeeter family recipe—my late grandmother taught me in her last few months on earth). I was envisioning my future, planning the corners of the earth I might visit, planning what well-deserved people I might gift the limelight to in my next article. I did not envision that I would not have a future.
> 
> And so it happens for me as it has happened for many. I woke, I lived, I crossed Harry Potter and his cult, Dumbledore’s Army. And now I am sitting on a bedframe without a mattress beside a woman named _Crucio Cathy_ who has discovered a few very troubling and unhygienic ways to conceal stolen food from the patrolling guards. As of this draft, I have not been offered a shower once. Judging by the scent of my unique cellmate, she has never been offered a shower or even a quick Cleaning Charm in the decades she has been here.
> 
> To get myself landed here, I spoke. Readers, throughout my long and industrious career I have covered matters ranging from minor Ministry disputes to the suspicious death of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. I have never wavered from my own convictions despite the unjust and immoral pressures placed upon me by our current Minister for Magic, Hermione Jean Granger. Despite this pressure, despite the violent antagonism from my colleague, Ginevra Potter, and despite the prejudicial judgment from some of my readers, I have always prided myself on my courage to deliver the truth in whole as best as I know it. Readers can attest to the fact that I have often put myself in mortal danger in my tireless efforts to acquire information, information that I use to keep everybody in the light— despite those who wish to keep you in the dark. Of all these threats to knowledge, free speech, and truth, the worst is Harry Potter. From my prison cell, I will start from the beginning and I will not be afraid to dismantle our current corrupt government’s darkest secrets.
> 
> According to the story we have been sold by the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s Army, and Harry Potter, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named split his soul into ‘six pieces’ (pieces allegedly named ‘Horcruxes’) with an unknowing seventh residing in Harry Potter himself, and the final piece residing, of course, in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. These pieces ensured virtual immortality for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; as long as they remained intact, nothing could kill him. And yet, according to what we have been told, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named chose to place these highly important pieces of his own soul into cherished and obvious artifacts. We must ask ourselves: if these ‘Horcruxes’ were real, why would the most infamous genius of our time choose to place them in known and valuable objects that could be found by three vagabond teenagers, instead of choosing to place them within, say, a stale biscuit in an elderly woman’s biscuit tin? Heavy emphasis placed on _if_ these Horcruxes even exist. Readers, everyone must remember the cycle of events that happened quickly after the ‘fall’ of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: in the resulting chaos, Harry Potter made a thirteen-hour-long statement to Aurors and the press, detailing everything from the Horcruxes to the final moments of some of his allies’ lives, and directly after this statement went public, Kingsley Shacklebolt—who assumed acting role of Prime Minster even before he was actually given it—demanded every book on the subject of Horcruxes destroyed and everybody found in possession of one to be arrested.
> 
> So are Horcruxes real? Many experts on Dark Magic—most of which were quoted in my book Dumbledore’s Army: The Dark Side of the Demob _—_ testify that they have never heard of this word, nor of any magic that could do anything similar. No evidence of Horcruxes can be found in any books, thanks to Shacklebolt’s early beginnings on the shackling of free speech. However, during my extensive research, I spoke to a handful of reputable individuals who claim Horcruxes certainly do exist—but that the ‘deceased’ Dark Lord would have never utilized them in the manner that he allegedly did.
> 
> Is it realistic that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was so easily defeated by a mere teenager? Is it likely that he harnessed the power of some of the darkest, most elusive magic—but failed to harness it in a sensible manner? Or is it more likely that this story of the ‘Horcrux Hunt’ is a crafty cover for a very different truth? Is it mere coincidence that both Mr. and Mrs. Potter have been known cohorts of these claimed ‘Horcruxes’?
> 
> I beg of you all, believers and doubters alike, to forget the story you have been told for a few moments, and allow yourself to hear a different truth.
> 
> In 1992, eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley (later to be known as Ginny Potter) was gifted a Horcrux from Lucius Malfoy (known Death Eater, father of Draco Malfoy, grandfather of Scorpius Malfoy). She cherished this Horcrux; she herself has described the experience as ‘all-consuming’. ‘I poured myself into it,’ she said, in an exclusive, overheard conversation with the Boy Who Lived himself. Despite the effort both the Weasley children and Potter went to to appear far removed from Malfoy and all other Death Eater ideals, both Ginevra Weasley and Harry Potter spent a disturbing portion of their formative years engulfed by Dark Magic. Drawn together like moths to a flame, these two were inseparable in their later school years, and both ran the ‘defence group’ Dumbledore’s Army at points during their education. But _was_ this a Defence Against the Dark Arts group? Or was it a _Dark Arts_ group?
> 
> Dark Magic enthusiasts Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter—both privy to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s most evil thoughts—needed three things if they were to expand their control and Dark ways: First, they needed supporters, which they gained rather quickly through their classmates. Secondly, they needed support from the community, which they eventually gained through Potter’s alleged _Boy Who Lived_ story. And lastly, they needed power, something they gained rather quickly after the ‘defeat’ of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But did they truly defeat him the way that they claim they did? Those who saw the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named saw only one thing: the Dark wizard being easily disarmed by a teenage boy. This is all we have proof of. Did the Horcruxes exist? Possibly. Going by the violent mental instabilities of both Harry Potter and his wife, it is extremely plausible that they told the truth about being possessed by two of these Horcruxes. But did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have _five_ additional ones, hidden in much more obvious places? Had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named truly returned to full power in the first place, with only a teenage boy equipped to bring his reign of terror to an end?
> 
> Or did young Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter, intoxicated with a shared dark world, desperate to act freely on their twisted fantasies, create a cunning lie—one that’s duped our world for decades? Did they fabricate the remaining Horcruxes to create the appearance of a powerful foe? Did they blame the results of their own Dark Magic experiments on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters? Did they easily overpower the weakened He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named due to their own prowess in Dark Magic? Did they lie their way to power—Ginny Weasley within Hogwarts, Harry Potter outside of it?
> 
> Readers, I’m sure many of you are inclined to think me mad. But let us examine the events once again. In 1998, Harry Potter defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with hardly a scratch on him, suggesting one of two things: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was never really a threat, and/or Harry Potter possessed magic much darker than his enemy. Quickly after this, Harry Potter and his friends joined the Aurors. Harry Potter worked his way up to Head of Magical Law Enforcement at unprecedented speed. Meanwhile, his best friend and possible mistress, Hermione Granger, mysteriously won an election despite poor standing with those polled. Harry Potter’s untalented wife got an undeserved job at the _Daily Prophet_ , where she frequently hexed journalists who attempted to speak out against her family. Dark Magic began resurging right as Potter and his cult gained complete control of our Ministry. The middle Potter child, Albus, a Slytherin, became involved with Scorpius Malfoy, another child whose parents were associated intimately with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And I—Rita Skeeter, known upholder of truth—was imprisoned shortly after making all of these revelations.
> 
> I write this bearing bad news for our world and everyone in it. While we have been daydreaming, content to believe the stories told to us, Potter and his cult have taken control of our government.
> 
> It begins like this: an outspoken journalist imprisoned for speaking out.
> 
> It will end with universal silence and universal control.
> 
> Harry Potter does not care about you. Harry Potter does not care about your family. Harry Potter does not care about those who died in the war. Harry Potter did not stop the war. Harry Potter _was_ the war.
> 
> Within the walls of Azkaban, I can sense another war brewing.

* * *

“—various effects. Now, if you’ll _carefully_ grasp the top of your tantrudrangea— _carefully_ , Bletchley—you can—”

The Herbology classroom fell into utter silence as Scorpius pushed the door open. Albus heaved a sigh near his side, readjusted his grip on his cane, and began making slow, limping progress to his seat. Professor Longbottom offered them a smile and then quickly began attempting to redirect their classmates’ attention.

“As I was saying—incorrectly grasping the middle of your plants could tickle them, and if they’re tickled, we all know what happens.” Everybody was still staring at Albus and Scorpius. Whispers were being quickly exchanged. “You’ll _die_ ,” Professor Longbottom said, clearly trying to get a reaction. Nobody cared. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake…”

Scorpius was already steeling himself for whatever horrible words were going to fly his and Albus’s way. This was Albus’s first day back, his first class. They’d avoided breakfast, choosing instead to steal biscuits from Harry’s office. But now they had to actually face their classmates—and Scorpius worried that Albus wasn’t feeling up for the bullying. Walking all over Hogwarts had taken a lot from him. Scorpius privately thought he needed the wheelchair.

“Potter,” a Ravenclaw boy, Olson, said. He smiled. “Here, come sit with us.”

Albus stopped walking. Scorpius did, too. They exchanged a blatantly baffled look, indifferent to the onlooking classmates. Hesitantly, after a moment of terse eye contact, they walked over and sank into the two saved seats right beside the most popular kids in their Herbology lesson. A particularly pretty Ravenclaw girl—Lumie Kolin—gave Albus a huge beam that left Scorpius feeling distinctly irritated. As they all began the process of repotting the tantrudrangeas, Scorpius caught her ‘accidentally’ brushing Albus’s arm quite a few times. He was feeling extremely violated on Albus’s behalf.

He wasn’t receptive to the Ravenclaws’ chatter because of it. They asked Albus all about his near-death experience for the majority of the lesson. Albus answered as quickly and honestly as he could while Scorpius focused on his plant to keep from saying something he’d regret to the girls that seemed _too_ interested in his boyfriend. _It doesn’t matter_ , he told himself. _You’re being stupid, it doesn’t matter, they only like him now because he’s ‘the Boy Who Survived’, you’ve liked him since the start, he knows that, he loves_ you _, he said it…_

“It’s rubbish, you know,” Ashton—a Slytherin girl—called to Albus from across the table. She plopped her twisting, flowering plant down into its new pot quickly, mindful not to tickle its middle. It gave a feeble yawn as she began dumping soil into the pot, like a toddler being tucked into bed after a particularly tiring day. “The article. I don’t believe it.”

Scorpius tore his full attention from his plant at those words. He looked to his left. Albus was already looking at him. They locked eyes.

“What article?” Albus finally asked, trepidation audible in his tone.

Everybody around them quieted again.

“Oh,” Ashton said. She exchanged a quick look with Lumie Kolin. “I thought you would’ve seen it this morning…”

“We didn’t go to breakfast,” Albus said. “Does anybody have a copy?”

Scorpius couldn’t keep himself from scowling as three girls tripped over themselves in their haste to dive into their bags and retrieve a copy of that morning’s _Prophet_. _I don’t like this,_ he told himself, over and over again, his fists clenched and his heart pounding a bit quicker than it should have. _In fact, I hate this, I despise this, I_ loathe _this…_

“Here,” Lumie produced a rolled up copy, beaming. She had the audacity to lick her lips. Scorpius’s hand accidentally slipped and fell too low on his plant; the minute he touched the velvety petals around the plant’s middle, it gave a shrill giggle. Professor Longbottom gasped.

“ _DOUSE IT IN WATER, SCORPIUS_!” he screamed.

Scorpius’s hands were trembling as he reached for the spray bottle. Thankfully, Sig was quicker; he dove across the table and squirted the giggling plant. Scorpius still wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if he hadn’t, but judging by the relieved looks his classmates were exchanging, he didn’t want to find out.

“Thanks,” he told Sig.

“No problem, mine’s already singed Omri’s eyebrows off, so I’m not taking any chances…this bottle’s staying in my hand.”

Scorpius looked across the table at Omri. He was indeed eyebrow-less, though he didn’t seem to be harboring any hard feelings; he was currently singing a Muggle nursery rhyme to his tantrudrangea, who appeared to be fast asleep. Its bottom petals—thorny, absolutely off limits to touch unless you wanted pustules the size of coins lining your spine—were cozied firmly into the damp soil, its middle petals—velvety, extremely ticklish, apparently capable of producing fire if they giggled for long enough—were gently swaying with each breath, and the top petals—silky with a mirror-like reflective quality—were tucked down, as if its eyes were shut.

“They key to the successful care of a tantrudrangea,” Professor Longbottom called, “is to think of a tantrum-throwing toddler. You want to keep the child and plant below threshold…just like you want to lull a toddler to sleep without them throwing toys at you…you want to lull a tantrudrangea back to sleep in its new pot without it burning a hole into your face…I see that those of you with many younger siblings are particularly adept at this.”

Omri gave Professor Longbottom a thumbs-up. Scorpius glanced back at Albus. He was waiting for a moment to unroll the _Prophet_ beneath the table and begin reading. When two of their dormmates, Malcolm and Saul, accidentally tickled their tantrudrangea enough to catch Malcolm’s hair on fire, Professor Longbottom was otherwise occupied, and Albus quickly opened up the _Prophet_. He didn’t have to flip through any pages. The headline greeted them on the first page, bold and horrible: “INSIDE AZKABAN’S WALLS: RITA SKEETER SPEAKS OUT”.

Albus slid over until his warm body was pressed against the side of Scorpius’s. Scorpius’s heart did a mini Albus-thing, but the glares the girls sent his way in response made it stop rather quickly. Albus reached over and set his hand on Scorpius’s thigh.

“Look at this,” he hissed, horrified. He set the paper between them in their laps. Scorpius and Albus bowed their heads and quickly began reading. With every sentence, Scorpius’s sinking feeling grew, until he wasn’t sure if he felt so awful because of the girls flirting with Albus or because of the dangerous lies that were surely filling everybody’s heads. They were so engrossed that they failed to notice Professor Longbottom walking up behind them.

“Albus, Scorpius,” he said softly, trying to keep his reprimand private—as he always tried to do. “I need you both to pay attention—your plants have begun playing pat-a-cake.”

Scorpius quickly looked to their plants. Sure enough, they were pressing velvety petals to velvety petals and appeared seconds away from giggling. Not wanting to be caught off guard this time, or without his eyebrows, Scorpius quickly grabbed his spray bottle ahead of time. Professor Longbottom kneeled down beside Albus.

“Albus, may I see that paper?”

“Neville, can I please finish it, I’ve only got a few more sentences—”

“This is rather important. Trust me?”

Scorpius glanced back at them after a preventative squirt to both plants’ upper leaves. Albus met his godfather’s eyes hesitantly. He nodded after a moment and reluctantly released the _Prophet_. Professor Longbottom stood with it in hand and looked down the table at his students.  

“Who read this morning’s _Prophet_?” he asked.

Professor Longbottom—who tried to remain on task and topic better than most professors—startled his students with that off-topic question. Mumbling whispers raced up and down the table. Professor Longbottom waited, and finally, every hand rose into the air.

“I ordinarily don’t like to indulge Rita Skeeter, but what she’s said this morning is extremely dangerous. The fact that the Editor of the _Prophet_ agreed to run it is troubling. And I’d like for you to quickly finish repotting if you haven’t already, place the blanket over your plant’s heads, and then give me your attention.”

There was a rustling flurry of activity as everybody quickly did as they were instructed. Once every plant was safely snoozing beneath teddy-bear printed blankets, Professor Longbottom held the paper up where they could all see the large title.

“I was here at Hogwarts for all of this,” he began. “I slept in the same room as Harry Potter for his entire school career. I was—and still am—best friends with Ginny Weasley.”

Everybody was expecting a lecture, so when he set the _Prophet_ down and said: “What would you like to know?” all hell broke loose.

“I want to know more about these Horcruxes, my mum always said it seemed fake—”

“What about both Potters being possessed? Why haven’t we heard more about that by now? Should we really have let people like that control any aspect of the government?”

“Yeah! Actually…should we have let war-scarred teenagers have any say in the government in the first place?!”

“Hermione Granger _did_ win in a suspicious landslide vote, my parents talk about it all the time…”

“What did Dumbledore’s Army _really_ do?”

Professor Longbottom sat on his stool at the end of the table.

“Okay…” His eyes landed on Claire Theva, who’d immediately lifted her hand into the air. “Ms. Theva?”

“With all due respect, Professor, I’m not certain any answers from you are answers at all.”

“Hey!” Albus hissed softly underneath his breath, affronted. Scorpius glanced at him. He didn’t even appear to realize he’d said it aloud. His brows were furrowed as Theva stared down his godfather, and Scorpius found it so adorable that he couldn’t help but reach over and take Albus’s warm hand in his. Albus gripped it back.

Professor Longbottom flushed. “Sorry?”

“You said it yourself. You’re a member of Harry Potter’s cult. You helped run it while he was away! You’re best friends with his wife! Why should I believe that any information you give me is any more accurate than the information found in the _history books_?”

She spat the words _history books_ like they were swear words. Scorpius bristled accordingly.

“Claire,” he found himself saying, much to his own surprise. Albus tightened his grip on Scorpius’s hand. “Are you suggesting that the revisions of _Hogwarts: A History_ and _A History of Magic_ are biased? Because—I refute that! I…refute that so much! Bathilda Bagshot’s legacy was _carefully_ conserved! Read _Conserving her Legacy_ by Alo Porter!” 

Claire spun to face Scorpius.

“I’m suggesting that Bathilda Bagshot was horribly biased in all that she did! She grew up next to the Dumbledores _and_ Lily and James Potter! She was killed by Dark Magic after being visited by _Harry Potter_ himself!”

Scorpius felt the blood rush to his face.

“Biased?! _Biased_?!”

“Oh, she’s done it now,” he heard Albus groan.

“Bathilda Bagshot was one of the _only_ historians who maintained complete objectivity! She spent her _life_ researching the truth and presenting it in a painstakingly accurate voice—”

“Yeah, accurate if you’ve been infected by the Potter Plague.”

 _Potter Plague._ There it was again. Where had she gotten that from? Halloran Carrow was still in Azkaban, awaiting his trial.

“Which, you know, it looks as if you _have_ ,” she continued, her eyes flickering obviously to Albus and Scorpius’s joined hands. “So clearly we can’t believe a word you say, either.”

“Claire,” Professor Longbottom interrupted. “I have a question for you.”

“Yes?” she snapped.

“Where do you get your information from? If everybody who lived to give eyewitness accounts is biased, and every historian is biased, and the government is biased—who do you think is fit to give you correct information?”

“The Death Eaters,” she said immediately. “Those wronged the most.”

“So the _enemy_ of Harry Potter is where you’re going to get ‘unbiased’ information? Hm.”

Professor Longbottom tripped her up for a moment. She opened her mouth wordlessly. After a moment of gathering her thoughts, she continued, her words steady and determined.

“I certainly won’t be getting any correct information from the government that has lied to us for decades. I certainly won’t get any real information from _you_ , or Professor Potter, or anybody else. Skeeter, as dramatic as she is, seems to be the only impartial party here. So—I’m going to listen to her.”

Professor Longbottom's jaw actually dropped. A few students giggled.

“Claire, have you even actually _read_ any of Skeeter’s books? Skeeter is _extremely_ prejudiced against the Potters. She has been ever since they made a fool of her by proving her wrong. She spent years reporting on Harry’s instability. She spent the majority of the Second Wizarding World reporting that it was all lies. In a roundabout way, Harry Potter humiliated her and undermined her career, because when he defeated Voldemort, it proved she’d been lying all along. She’s been trying to get back at him and his family ever since.”

“Yeah—because Harry Potter lied to get control of our government, so _he_ could use Dark Magic!”

Professor Longbottom stared at her. He shook his head after a moment. “That’s just not true, Claire.”

“Says you.”

“Yes—says me! Somebody who _lived through this_! I was there. I was standing alongside them throughout all of this. I know what happened. I was tortured. I saw Voldemort. I killed the snake—the final Horcrux. I know what happened and I won’t let Rita Skeeter rewrite history.”

“You don’t even know my parents,” Albus said suddenly to Claire. “None of you do. I do. Neville does. Scorpius does. We are the _only_ people here who have a right to say anything about them with any authority. And my parents never used Dark Magic! My parents have scars all over their bodies from the Death Eaters and Voldemort! My parents aren’t perfect, and our government isn’t perfect, but they gave up more than you lot would ever be willing to so that we could—”

“Then why would they be okay with you dating Scorpius?”

The question came from Saul. Scorpius felt his cheeks warm. Albus blushed, too.

“What?” he demanded.

“If it’s true that the Death Eaters did such horrible things, if they and the Dark Lord were such a threat to your dad and his friends, if they represent all the things your parents gave up ‘so much’ to stop, and if Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater and came from a long line of loyal ones…why would your parents _ever_ be okay with you and Scorpius being together?”

Scorpius was as blindsided by their relationship being thrown into this argument as Albus was. Neither of them said anything.

“Yeah,” another Slytherin girl said. “I was wondering that, too. It just makes you wonder…maybe the Malfoys switched allegiances to a _stronger_ Dark Wizard during the Second Wizarding War…maybe the Malfoys and Potters are so close now because the Malfoys have joined their cult…”

“Or maybe—” Albus began, his tone trembling with anger. “My parents aren’t horrible people and they recognize that people can change.”

“If Harry Potter was secretly a Dark Wizard all along, why would he want to hurt Death Eaters?” Sigmund suddenly asked. “I don’t really understand that. I didn’t understand that in Skeeter’s article, either. Why would he have hurt so many Dark Wizards if he himself was one?”

“For control,” Saul said immediately. “Because those Death Eaters refused to abandon the Dark Lord and join him.”

“Okay, sure…but then…why have we been living in such a peaceful world since Professor Potter helped rebuild the Ministry? Why have our economy and healthcare improved so much since Hermione Granger became Minster for Magic? I mean…if Potter’s goal was to reign with darkness or whatever…well, he isn’t exactly doing that, Saul.”

Saul flushed. “He could be. Just…stealthily.”

“Sure, all right, but hear me out: the simpler answer is probably the correct one. Isn’t it so much simpler to assume that all the evidence backing up the original story is, you know, true?”

“No! That’s narrow-minded and naïve and exactly what they want you to think!”

“But what you’re saying is exactly what Rita Skeeter wants you to think. What Claire’s saying is exactly what the angry Death Eaters want her to think.”

“I—that’s totally different, you’re not—understanding what I’m…” Saul trailed off, visibly frustrated. “You’re an idiot, Stone.”

“Really? Because I think I’m fairly clever.” He looked across the table at the Ravenclaws sitting with Albus and Scorpius. “What do the Ravenclaws think?”

They’d been watching the debate carefully. At Sig’s question, Olson straightened.

“I think Skeeter’s article follows messy logic. I think Azkaban is getting to her. I think she’s so angry that she’s reaching.”

“She’s using an extremely reactive voice, too,” Lumie added. “There’s no need for such theatrics in journalism if your story speaks for itself.”

“However,” a third Ravenclaw added. “She brought up a few individual points that warrant examination. But I absolutely _refuse_ to accept the notion suggested in this class that the only reliable source of information is ex-Death Eaters who tortured and murdered thousands or Rita Skeeter, who failed to address the _actual_ reason she was imprisoned even once in her article.”

“The animagus thing?” Saul demanded. “Yeah—let’s talk about that, then. Hermione Granger knew about that all along! She should’ve arrested her the minute she got the authority to! But instead, she chose to blackmail her!”

“Perhaps not the best choice,” Lumie agreed. “But she hasn’t made a statement in response to Skeeter’s article yet. We shouldn’t judge without knowing the full story. And I find it suspicious that Rita Skeeter didn’t even _mention_ the fact that she’s an illegal animagus, or that she’s been using that ability to infringe on the privacy of individuals for decades!”

 “Albus?” Sig prompted. “You were birthed from the Potters—”

“Probably just from his mum, idiot,” Omri interrupted.

“‘Probably’,” Olson repeated with a straight face. “You heard it here first: babies _probably_ come from the mother, but they _might_ come from the dad.”

Omri made a vulgar hand gesture. Professor Longbottom sighed.

“Oi, you both know what I meant!” Sig finally said. “What do you want to say about this, Albus?”

Albus clearly didn’t want to say anything. Scorpius tightened his hold on Albus’s hand. Albus looked from Claire, to Saul, to the few other Slytherin girls who’d been nodding along.

“I think you’re arses,” Albus finally snapped.

“Albus,” Professor Longbottom scolded.

“No, honestly. I think you’re idiotic arses. And you should probably, you know, read a book.”

Perhaps he was emboldened by the whole dying-and-coming-back thing, but Albus was gutsier than Scorpius had ever seen. Oddly, it made his stomach jolt. He suddenly couldn’t _wait_ until class was over for a slew of different reasons.

“Want to say that again?” Saul challenged.

“Oh, did you miss it the first time? Okay. I’ll try it again, but louder. I—THINK—YOU’RE—IDIOTIC—ARSES.”

Saul stood up. His fists clenched. Professor Longbottom rose too. Albus remained seated, probably because he knew he’d shake if he stood, and that wouldn’t appear very intimidating. Somehow, remaining in his seat seemed even more threatening than Saul’s rising did. The girls who’d been flirting with Albus before seemed even more determined to move closer to him. In a possessive fit of irritation, Scorpius reached up and wrapped his arm around Albus, pulling him into his side. Albus was so angry he hardly seemed to notice.

“Wands _away_!” Professor Longbottom said sharply, withdrawing his own. Saul didn’t lower the wand he’d just pulled. “Montague!”

Reluctantly, Saul lowered his wand. He was breathing hard. Albus’s posture was tense. The entire class seemed to be holding its breath.

“People _don’t_ change,” Saul finally said. “And you’re just like your horrible father.”

“Good,” Albus shot back, his tone deathly calm. “And just like my horrible father, I’ll win.”

Nobody was talking to each other as the class walked from the greenhouse.

* * *

“This is bad,” Scorpius said, for the third time. He had one arm around Albus’s waist, helping to support some of his weight as Albus limped slowly up the stairs. “This is bad. Very bad. Extremely bad. Horrifically—”

“I get it, okay?!” Albus snapped. Scorpius frowned. Albus stopped walking and sighed. “Sorry. I just—I know. And I’m a bit…freaked out. And really tired on top of it.”

They were already three minutes late to their next lesson. Albus looked more than just tired—he looked _exhausted_.

“We could have a sit,” Scorpius offered, pointing towards the steps. “Or I could go get the wheelc—”

“No. No wheelchair. Just…give me a moment to catch my breath.”

“Okay,” Scorpius said. He felt irrationally wounded by Albus’s irritation, even though he knew logically that it wasn’t really aimed at him. Still, he couldn’t help but think about those flirting girls…what if Albus…no. No, he wouldn’t let himself even consider it.

“I need to sit,” Albus panted. He had barely said the words when his legs folded beneath him. Scorpius managed to tighten his grip to prevent him from crashing to the stairs; he slowly helped him lower down instead. He sat down beside him. Albus rested his head against Scorpius’s shoulder as he struggled to catch his breath. His forehead was damp with sweat. Tiny tendrils of hair were sticking to it. Scorpius felt his heart swell as he reached up and gently brushed them back.

“She’s going to ruin it all,” Albus finally said, his eyes still shut. “Skeeter. She’s dragging my parents back into a war.”

Even the thought made Scorpius panic. “We don’t know that for sure; I think most people are clever enough to know it’s all a load of dragon dung.”

“My parents nearly lost me to Dark Magic and now everybody’s accusing _them_ of worshiping it. It’s not fair. I’m so _angry_ ,” he groaned.

Scorpius swallowed his building sadness. “Hopefully your Aunt Hermione will make a statement in the _Evening Prophet_ and put an end to all of this. Or maybe Ginny will hex the _Prophet_ Editor for printing that article…”

“Even if they can stop it from escalating outside of school, what are they going to do about the state of things in here? People are getting hexed left and right—despite the wand checks. People aren’t listening! They actually think the history books are wrong!”

“I know. It’s…bad,” Scorpius said lamely.

“And people are treating me like…like…” he trailed off.

“Like a celebrity?” Scorpius suggested.

“Yeah. Like I’m some sort of hero. Well—I’m not. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t save myself. The Healers saved me.”

“Er…” Scorpius began hesitantly. “Lumie Kolin certainly thought you were a hero.”

He’d planned on keeping the bitterness out of his voice, but he didn’t do a great job of it. Albus glanced at him.

“Then she’s an idiot. Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…you’re…you know.”

“‘You know’?” Scorpius challenged. “Words, Albus.”

“Like you’re _jealous_.”

He laughed like the idea was preposterous. Scorpius blushed. He found it difficult to meet Albus’s eyes. He shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he evaded.

Albus was quiet. Scorpius felt his legs brush his as he shifted to face him. He felt Albus’s palm settle on his cheek.

“You are,” he realized. He laughed. “Merlin. You’re actually—you’re _jealous_.”

Scorpius looked up. When he met Albus’s eyes, they were his soft eyes. His heart skipped a beat.

“I knew you were wonderful from the start,” Scorpius finally said. “From the very start. Me. I knew it.”

Albus shook his head. “Scorpius, I know. They’re…you know. Idiots. They only like me now because I’m _interesting_.”

Scorpius looked back down. “Lumie’s very pretty.”

“And I’m sure she’ll make some bloke really happy one day?”

“Yeah, probably. She probably would,” Scorpius mumbled.

“Er...and by _some bloke_ I very clearly meant _anybody but me_. Blimey. This really bothered you.”

It wasn’t a question. Scorpius didn’t even try to deny it. He was too busy sulking to catch movement from the corner of his eye. One moment he was nailed in place by the heaviness of his aching heart, fear and anxiety pulsating through him, and then next Albus’s hand was gripping his upper thigh.

“Should I remind you how I feel about you?”

Scorpius balked. He looked at Albus, wide-eyed, blushing. “On the—on the staircase?” he squeaked.

Flirty Albus. Smoldering eyes. Scorpius felt way too hot in his robes.

“Well, you seem to need a reminder, and we’re currently on the staircase, so…”

Albus leaned closer. Scorpius found himself doing the same. His heart was hammering as Albus pressed his lips to his, and as it’d been happening more and more lately, that first kissed turned into a landslide. Before Scorpius had even managed to have a complete thought, he was snogging Albus against the stairs, his shaky hands finding their way underneath Albus’s shirt. He reveled in the soft warmth of his bare skin. He was content to bask in the love soaking his heart. All he knew was that he really loved Albus, everything about him, and especially _this_ …

Something hard knocked into Scorpius’s spine.

“Ow!” he cried, pulling back from Albus. He turned around, confused. He stared at empty air.

“Oh, bugger,” a bodiless voice said. “Sorry—tripped.”

“Er…” Scorpius said.

Albus sat up. He reached out like he’d gone blind, feeling the thin air.

“Ah-ha!” he cried.

“No!” somebody else cried.

Albus closed his fingers around something. He pulled his arm back. Lily came into view a moment later. Albus gathered the Invisibility cloak in his arms. _Oh_. And she wasn’t alone.

Lily stared at them. The Slytherin boy beside her—Caden Rowle, third year—stared at them. And they stared back at the unlikely pair.

“What are you doing?!” Albus demanded. He stared at his sister and the boy, confused.

“What are _you_ doing?” Lily shot back.

“I’d think that was rather obvious!” Albus exclaimed. “What are you doing with my sister, Rowle?”

Rowle crossed his arms. “I’d think that was rather obvious.”

Albus clenched his jaw. He scrambled for his cane a moment later. Scorpius quickly rose, handed him the cane, and then helped hoist him back to his feet. He pointed weakly at Lily.

“I’m telling Dad _and_ I’m taking this cloak back to James.”

“Fine,” Lily spat. She reached down and took Rowle’s hand. “Do whatever you like.”

Albus clearly hadn’t expected that. Lily swung her long red hair over her shoulder, pulled on Rowle’s hand, and set off up the stairs without rising to Albus’s bait. He stared after them, his expression resembling one that somebody might wear after being smacked in the face.

“What does she think she’s doing?!” Albus raged, as soon as the pair rounded the corner.

“I think she’s got a boyfriend,” Scorpius said helpfully.

“Yeah, I gathered that much!”

“Rowle’s all right, he—”

“He’s not all right! He’s—he’s not all right at all! O _oh,_ I can’t _wait_ to tell Dad! I can’t _wait_! Let’s go.”

With newfound determination and surprising strength, Albus began limping back up the stairs with no help from Scorpius. 

* * *

Scorpius fully expected to walk into a violent debate, but when they entered Harry’s classroom, everybody was peacefully sectioned off into pairs, working on their Patronuses. Harry greeted them with a calm wave.

“Hello, pair up please and start practicing,” he said. And that was that.

Throughout the entire lesson, nobody said a word about the article. Harry didn’t bring it up and neither did Saul. The only conflict occurred at the end of the lesson when Malcolm asked if they could stop working on Patronuses.

“I’m never going to get it,” he said, frustrated. “I feel like it’s wasting our time. We won’t be tested over it on our O.W.L.s, it’s far too advanced.”

Harry looked terribly exhausted. He’d been yawning throughout the entire lesson and his eyes were shadowed from either stress or a lack of sleep (or both).

“No, we can’t stop. O.W.L.s are important, but they’re not the most important thing. We’ll keep working on Patronuses throughout the year until everybody gets it.”

“But _why_?” he pressed. “It’s not as if we’re going to ever need to use it.”

Harry pulled his glasses off. He rubbed over his eyes tiredly.

“Every generation thinks they’ll never need to use it. We will keep practicing. Don’t forget about your essays due Monday. Oh—your first essays are marked and waiting on my desk to be picked up. Collect yours on your way out.”

Albus nudged Scorpius. “Will you go get mine, too? I want to talk to my dad about Lily.”

Scorpius nodded. “Okay.”

He walked over and waited to pick up their essays while Albus pulled Harry to the side. In front of Scorpius, a pair of Hufflepuffs were in an intense discussion.

“It’s horrible, you can tell Skeeter’s lies aren’t true just from how sad and tired he looks,” Rina Matthewson whispered. She turned and shot a concerned look Harry’s way.

“He looks so heartbroken,” her Hufflepuff friend whispered sadly. “How could anybody think he’s a liar? How could anybody think he’s a Dark Wizard? Ivory, I feel so bad for him and his family…people always turn against him…the articles Binns made the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors read…this just keeps happening over and over again…”

“What?” Scorpius blurted.

Rina and her friend—Ivory—jumped. They turned around.

“Sorry for eavesdropping,” Scorpius said impatiently. “Did you say Professor _Binns_ made students read articles? Instead of lecturing?”

Rina and Ivory exchanged a look. They stepped closer.

“Yeah,” Rina said. “Rose Granger-Weasley said he made them read all of Skeeter’s articles from the Second Wizarding World and a few from before. And then he lectured about the Second Wizarding War—but not from his notes, from his memory.”

“ _No fair_ ,” Scorpius breathed. “We don’t have History of Magic lessons until Tuesday!”

“Yeah, I hope he does the same thing for us on Tuesday,” Ivory agreed. “It’d be great to stay awake in class for once…”

Ivory and Rina collected their essays. Scorpius rummaged through, located his and Albus’s, and then stepped to the side. He spotted Iset doing the same, but she was staring hard at her essay, her eyes scanning something, so he didn't interrupt her. Scorpius unrolled his. He grinned.

“Excellent,” he whispered. An O. And Harry had written ‘ _brilliant—I couldn’t have said it better myself’._ Grinning, Scorpius opened Albus’s. An O, though he'd expected that, considering Harry had helped Albus with the entire thing while he was in hospital.

He looked over at Iset. “Did you do all right?”

She jumped. She met Scorpius’s eyes and then quickly looked back at her essay.

“Yeah, I did all right,” she evaded. She quickly rolled it up, but before she did, Scorpius caught sight of a huge block of Harry's messy, scrawled script. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Scorpius smiled. “So did Albus! What did you write about?”

“Erm…laws regarding Dark Magic and detection spells. You?”

“History of Dark Magic and the societal impacts of Dark Magic.”

“Ah,” she nodded. An awkward silence settled over them. She readjusted her bag and shifted, clearly intending on walking from the room.

“Did you read Skeeter’s article this morning?” Scorpius blurted, before she could walk away.

She hesitated. “Yes. I did.”

“What did you think?”

“I think it’s ridiculous,” she said immediately. “Most of my House does, too.”

“I think so, too,” Scorpius said, relieved. “I’m glad you don’t believe it. It’s scary how many do.”

“Lies spread quicker than the truth. People like to believe lies more.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He paused. “Iset?”

“Yeah?”

“You should…come to the library with me and Albus some time. We could work on homework. Chat? Be friends or…acquaintances?”

He had no idea how to make friends, but he thought that wasn’t too bad of a start. Iset smiled, but it was small and a bit sad.

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks.”

“Er—thanks. I mean—you’re welcome. Or—thanks, too?”

Thankfully, she laughed. She pointed over Scorpius’s shoulder a second later. “I think Albus wants you.”

“Oh—yeah, he usually does,” Scorpius said immediately, without thinking his words through. He flushed. He was still mentally berating himself as he turned and walked over to Albus and Harry. “Hi.”

“Tell him, Scorpius,” Albus said immediately. “Tell him about Rowle.”

“Erm…well, he’s a little taller than Albus, he’s got dark blond hair—”

“About him and _Lily_!”

“Oh. They were walking together beneath the Cloak?”

“See!”

“I believed you, Albus,” Harry reassured Albus. He was frowning. “Do you still have the map?”

“Of course. It’s right here,” Albus said, patting his pocket.

“Okay. I _don’t_ —” he widened his eyes significantly— “want you to keep an eye on Lily. Your mum would be really angry if I told you to keep an eye on Lily and her…‘boyfriend’. So don’t keep an eye on her, especially during class breaks and at night. Okay?”

Albus nodded slowly, seriously. “Okay. I will not do that, Dad.”

“Thank you for not doing that, Al,” Harry said, relieved. He stifled a yawn. Now that Scorpius was standing closer, he noticed that Harry _did_ look rather exhausted. Was he sad because of the _Prophet_ article? Worried? Sadness stabbed at Scorpius’s heart.

“Harry?” he asked.

Harry turned and looked at him.

“Did you see the _Prophet_ this morning?”

Harry nodded. “Saw it, yelled about it, Ginny went off to do something about it.”

“What’s she going to do?” Albus asked immediately.

“Probably get herself fired. Not that I’m complaining at this point.” He yawned again. Albus noticed this time.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Hmm? Yeah. Just exhausted. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Oh,” Albus said. “Dad…is everything okay? Things are…we’re kind of worried. Rita Skeeter said something about a war. Is there going to be another war?”

Scorpius waited nervously for Harry to respond. After a heavy moment, he smiled.

“No, Al. There won’t be another war now, but there will be one day if we don’t put a stop to all of this soon.” He patted Albus’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s walk to lunch.”

Scorpius and Albus exchanged uneasy looks.

* * *

The weekend greeted them with frostbitten mornings and chills that lingered well into the afternoon. Scorpius and Albus had moved back to the Slytherin dormitory at prompting from McGonagall and Slughorn; Friday night had been awkward, but Saul didn’t say anything to anybody, much less Albus and Scorpius. Too afraid to upset the fragile peace of the dormitory, Albus and Scorpius had elected to sleep in their own beds, something Scorpius had sorely regretted come morning when he was woken by the frigid bite of autumn air. The Slytherin dungeon was the coldest place in Hogwarts, and while Scorpius expected it, that first cold morning always caught him off guard. 

They spent the majority of Saturday morning and afternoon in front of the fire in the Common Room, desperately trying to get caught up on all their homework that’d fallen to the wayside while Albus was ill. They briefly considered going out to practice Quidditch, but after taking one step out onto the grounds, the lingering chill sent them both back inside the castle.

“What now? Library?” Scorpius suggested.

“No, please, no more books,” Albus groaned. He pulled the Marauder’s Map from his pocket and opened it. He withdrew his new wand (hazel, dragon heartstring core—Albus had spoken proudly of it for a day straight), and said: “ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ …” Scorpius leaned over and watched as the parchment filled with markings.

“Let’s see…” Albus mused. “Mum and Dad are with Neville and Luna…Rose is in the library…Hugo’s in the Gryffindor Common Room…where are Lily and James?”

“James is probably with McGonagall.”

“Oh, yeah—you’re right,” Albus said, his eyes landing on McGonagall’s office. “So where’s Lily?”

They stood in silence and scanned the map. After a minute or so, Scorpius spotted Lily Potter. “There.”

He jabbed his finger at the spot. Lily Potter’s dot was near the Slytherin dungeons, standing beside Caden Rowle.

“Again!” Albus raged, annoyed. “What is she up to?”

“She’s probably just meeting him there.”

“Oh, they’re moving…”

They watched the dots travel slowly up from the dungeons.

“They’re going outside. Let’s go,” Albus said.

“But it’s cold…”

Albus leveled an unamused look Scorpius’s way. Scorpius sighed.

“ _Fine_ ,” he groaned. “Here we go…another adventure. We’re turning into quite the explorers. Yay…!”

Truth be told, he was getting tired of adventures. He would’ve much rather curled up with Albus in front of the fire with a nice book.

* * *

They sat together on the chilly ground, curled up together beneath the stolen Invisibility Cloak. From only a few feet away, Lily and Caden Rowle were having an intense row.

“No! _No_!” Lily said, her hair dancing angrily behind her as she shook her head. “No—that’s not going to work, Caden!”

“Why not?! It will get their attention! _Anti-Potter_ club!”

“I don’t think they’re going to want to come to a club hosted by Lily Potter called _Anti-Potter,_ nor do I want to be associated with that name!”

“Well, they’re not going to join a club called Opal.”

“It’s O.P.A.L.!” Lily correctly hotly. “And you know very well it stands for Overcoming Personal Anguish and Loss!”

“Yeah, well, whatever it is—they’re not going to come to it. Look. I think you’re brilliant. But this thing you want to do…it’s not going to work. Trust me, I know—they’re all so angry. They don’t _want_ to talk about their feelings, especially not in a group with Harry Potter’s daughter. To them, you’re just as bad as him.”

“But it will _help_!” Lily argued. “If everybody would just _talk_ to each other…if both sides would just _talk_ and stop being so angry and stubborn and idiotic…”

“It’s not going to happen!”

“Not with your negativity it won’t! I’m sick of you!”

“Then by all means—go!” Caden gestured off. Lily remained stubbornly in place.

“The fact is—they won’t join this, even if you call it a dragon club to try and keep others from knowing exactly what it is that they’re involved in. They’ll still be embarrassed. They still won’t have an interest in it at all.”

Lily withdrew some squares of parchment. “Well, I’ve already made these.”

“Let me see,” Caden sighed.

Albus nudged Scorpius and then pointed forwards. Scorpius nodded. Slowly and quietly, they stood and tip-toed over, so they could make out the writing on the squares of parchment.

 **O.P.A.L.**  
**Student Dragon Association**  
**President: Lily Potter**  
**Sponsor: Slughorn**  
**Requirements: Good at magic, any age**  
**Dress: No Stupid Hats**  
**Rules: Do Not touch my hair**

Scorpius and Albus looked at each other at the same time. They shared a dry look.

“You can give these out, but I’ll eat my wand if anybody actually shows up,” Caden snorted.

Lily shoved Caden hard. He shoved her back with equal strength. Albus tensed next to Scorpius and withdrew his wand, but Lily began giggling a moment later.

“I hope they _do_ , so you’ve got to eat your wand.”

“Evil!” Caden admonished. “I hope they don’t so you realize your card is rubbish.”

“Rude. I hope they know you’ve kissed Harry Potter’s daughter so they disembowel you.”

“Nasty! I hope somebody tells Harry Potter that you’re dabbling in the Dark Arts so he grounds you.”

“Brutal! I hope everybody finds out that I only did that spell to prove that I could do it better than you—and I _did_.”

Scorpius felt uneasy. The two made rude hand gestures at each other at the same moment. They continued on like nothing had happened.

“So what do we do? How do we get all the ex-Death Eaters’ kids and nieces and nephews to come to my therapy club?”

“Well, we could say it’s a Dark Arts club.”

“I don’t think they’d believe that. I don’t appear nearly as capable of Dark Magic as I truly am.”

“Yeah, they won’t believe it if _you’re_ listed as the president of the club. But _I_ , on the other hand, have the perfect family name for that role.”

“Hmm…” Lily mused. She plopped down onto the grass. She stared out towards the Great Lake. “They come to the Dark Arts club…and then what? How do we turn it from darkness and death to feelings and resolutions?”

“No idea. I’m out of ideas.”

“Then I’m out of here. I’ll go ask _Evandrus—”_

Albus made a tiny, angry sound as Caden reached out and took Lily’s hand. Scorpius could hear him audibly grinding his teeth.

“We can start an argument. Eventually, they’ll join in and take sides. And then we’ve started a group discussion.”

“Or a group brawl,” Lily scoffed. “Though…hmm…perhaps there is something to that idea…” she reached up and gave the top of Caden’s head a condescending pat. “Nice work.”

He slapped her hand from his head. She smacked his hand right back. Scorpius grimaced as they began punching at each other, playful at first and then with surprising strength.

“Weak punch,” Lily taunted.

“Look who’s talking! _Ow_!”

“ _Ouch!”_

They both rubbed their arms. “Okay, enough of that.”

“Okay.”

A pause. And then they both lunged forward and punched each other again.

“Damn you, Caden!” Lily shrieked. “That hurt!”

“Damn you, Potter! I’m bruising!”

“Okay,” Albus spat. “This is finished.”

And before Scorpius could say a word, he’d sent a jet of cold water from his wand. It hit Caden square in the face. He jumped.

“Did that come from the lake?!” Caden demanded. He spat out a mouthful of water. “Ugh!”

“I don’t know…” Lily turned around and surveyed the space around her suspiciously. Scorpius decided it was time to go. He tugged on Albus’s arm.

“C’mon,” he hissed.

They walked as quickly as possible (which wasn’t very quickly at all, thanks to Albus’s reliance on his cane), and once they were back inside the castle, they pulled the cloak off themselves. Albus was seething.

“Did you see that?! What is she playing at?! Dark Arts?! Hitting?! My _little sister_?! I’m not joking anymore. I’m not even telling Dad this time. I’m telling _James_.”

Albus limped off angrily. Scorpius had no choice but to follow him.

* * *

They went to the Room of Requirement to wait for James to return. Nora brought tea and food back from the kitchens.

“So she said she’s been doing Dark Magic?” she asked softly, concerned. She dropped two sugar cubes into her tea and moved to sit across from Scorpius and Albus.

“Yes!” Albus raged.

“Well, she said she did _one_ spell,” Scorpius corrected.

“One is one too many! He’s trying to brainwash my sister!”

“I don’t think anybody could brainwash Lily,” Nora said. “But I see why you’re concerned. You said he _hit_ her?”

“They hit each other,” Scorpius clarified. “It looked like they were teasing.”

“Hmm…” Nora turned around and looked towards the hammocks. Scorpius could see the tops of two dark heads, but he couldn’t see who was sitting in it. “Evvie, come here, I need your opinion.”

“Okay,” Evvie called. The hammock swayed as she presumably attempted to climb out of it. And then: “No, Ben, don’t—”

It completely twisted around, spilling both Evvie and Ben and their dozens of books onto the carpet below.

“Whoops,” Ben said. He pulled Evvie’s hair from his mouth. She grimaced.

“So coordinated, Chase. It’s hard to believe you’re the product of two renowned Quidditch players,” she snorted. She rose and walked over to them. “Hello, Scorpius. Hello, Albus. Is everything okay?”

She sat beside Nora.

“What do you know about Caden Rowle?” Nora asked her.

“Little Cade? He’s all right. A bit arrogant and obnoxious, but I’ve never heard of him doing anything particularly—”

“Dark?” Ben called to her. “Anything _Dark,_ Ev?”

Evvie’s eyelids fluttered shut. She took a deep breath in, held it, and then slowly exhaled it.

“—yes. Fine. I’ve never seen Caden Rowle doing anything particularly _dark_.”

Ben Wood laughed gleefully.

“Why?” Evvie wondered. She looked between them all. “Is everything okay?”

“Lily Potter’s flirting with him,” Nora finally explained.

Evvie laughed shortly. “Good luck to her; Caden goes through girls like quills. He’s always flirting with a different girl in the Common Room. Haven’t you two noticed?”

She directed that to Albus and Scorpius.

“Er…” Albus said. He met eyes with Scorpius. Neither had the guts to admit that they were usually only paying attention to each other when they were in the Common Room; they’d had many cuddle sessions on their customary sofa by now.

“Oh, but you two are usually otherwise occupied,” Evvie remembered, her eyes twinkling. “Right. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry. Caden Rowle flirting doesn’t mean much.”

“But he said Lily tried Dark Magic—”

“Technically, all hexing is considered Dark Magic. Your mum’s bat-bogey included,” Evvie said.

Albus frowned. “How do you know about my mum’s bat-bogey?”

“She had lunch with us today. Look—all I’m saying is, don’t freak out. You know your sister. I’m sure she’s perfectly all right. I’m sure she’s not getting herself involved in anything dangerous.”

“Yeah, but, she’s got this obsession with being _powerful_ …and being good at Dark Magic would indeed make her _powerful_ ,” Albus worried. 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Evvie repeated calmly. “She sees how powerful your dad is and he’s never had to resort to Dark Magic to get that way.”

Scorpius thought it was a good point, but Albus didn’t look entirely reassured.

* * *

They were halfway through an intense game of Exploding Snap with the other Sevens members when James finally returned. He hardly seemed to see anybody but Nora as he stumbled into the room; he was exhausted and clearly intent on finding her arms. He fell into her embrace and only looked around himself when Nora whispered something to him.

“Oh, hey, Al, Scorpius,” he greeted. He gave them a tired smile. Scorpius noticed a massive bruise covering half his neck. It disappeared underneath his robes, but Scorpius figured it probably covered his entire shoulder. Nora noticed it, too.

“Jamie-Baby!” she said, horrified. Albus and Scorpius bit back their snickers and avoided each other’s eyes. “What did you do?!”

“Animagus training,” he said weakly. He smiled wanly at her. “Don’t worry, doesn’t hurt. Did you need something, Al, or are you just here to chat?”

Albus had been waiting for over two hours to tell James all about Lily, but when he opened his mouth, he faltered.

“Er…just, you know. Here to see _Nora-Bear_.”

He grinned. James scowled. Nora went right along with Albus’s lie.

“We’ve been playing Exploding Snap. Want to join us?”

James looked like what he really needed was a long nap or a hot bath or maybe even some firewhiskey. But he leaned forward and kissed Nora’s cheek.

“Absolutely,” he told her, a warm smile in place.

Scorpius didn’t need to ask Albus why he hadn’t told James. It was clear that the last thing the eldest Potter child needed was more stress. Scorpius couldn’t fathom how he was shouldering it all as it was.

* * *

On the next Monday, Albus was scheduled to go to Harry’s office to face his boggart. He was a bit more nervous than Scorpius had expected him to be. He’d been unable to sleep the night before; he and Scorpius had ended up lying side-by-side in Scorpius’s bed, first reading a book together, and then whiling away the time in a very different way. For the second time that term, Scorpius was going to class with poorly concealed love bites.

“Listen to these headlines, and this is just from the first few pages: “Minister for Magic: ‘Skeeter Lives in Her Own Deluded World’. ‘I Have Never Done Dark Magic!’, ‘Potter Perils’, ‘Is our Ministry a Family Affair’? ‘Animagus or Animag _I_? Who Does This Ancient Skill Really Serve?’” Scorpius read off. He shook his head, annoyed. “This was supposed to get better. It only seems to be getting worse.”

He was hoping to take Albus’s mind off his upcoming boggart confrontation. Albus had been unable to eat breakfast, so they were heading to Harry’s office about twenty minutes early. Scorpius looked back at the front page of that morning’s _Prophet_ as they walked along the corridor.

“Listen to this,” he continued. “‘The _Daily Prophet’s_ investigative journalist, Viola Summers, met with Mrs. Ginny Potter yesterday evening at the Three Broomsticks. Over frothy butterbeers, the redheaded woman had this to say: ‘I have never done Dark Magic. Harry and I very literally fought _against_ Dark Magic for _years and years_. Just because some—’ and here they put in a load of asterisks, Albus, I wonder what she called her…‘—says that we did, when she’s got a clear bias against us, doesn’t mean anybody should be seriously entertaining the ridiculous idea!’ Potter continued after taking a somewhat angry swig of butterbeer. ‘Do you want to know what Harry and I are? Fed up. Tired. Frustrated. Sick of explaining ourselves over and over again to the same ungrateful people over the same—’ loads of asterisks again… ‘We nearly just lost _our son_ to Dark Magic; the fact that there are people who could even ponder the idea that Harry and I have secretly been involved with it for years means that there are quite a few more—’ edited for language _again…‘_ —idiots than I thought’. Wow, don’t hold back, Ginny,” Scorpius appreciated.

“I don’t understand why she won’t quit the _Prophet,_ ” Albus scoffed.

“I think it’s a political move,” Scorpius shared.

They arrived at Harry’s office door. It was slightly cracked, so neither of them thought anything of it when Albus pushed the door open. They probably should’ve.

“Oh, sorry,” Albus blurted lamely.

James jumped. He glanced back at them and then quickly reached up to wipe the obvious tears from his face. Harry was frowning.

“Albus, knocking is usually a good idea,” he said.

“Sorry,” Albus repeated, stunned, his eyes locked on his elder brother. “What’s happened? What’s wrong? Why are you crying, James?”

“Nothing,” Harry said sharply, before James could stammer out an answer. “He’s just done his boggart. Wait outside. I’ll come get you when it’s your turn, okay?”

Albus looked even more terrified. Scorpius had to yank him from the office. As soon as the door was shut behind them, they heard Harry resume speaking, his voice calm and gentle. James sounded like he was crying again. Scorpius was as stunned as Albus.

“I wonder what he saw?” he asked quietly.

“I dunno…” Albus said. He was staring wide-eyed into space. “Maybe I’ll just…take a failing mark.”

“No. No, you need to do it, it’s important,” Scorpius argued. He was still mulling over what could’ve reduced happy-go-lucky _James_ to tears. “I’ll bet he saw Nora dead. Or maybe a massive monster, like Lily did? She said she saw a huge basilisk.”

Albus scoffed. “Lily’s a liar. She didn’t see a basilisk. A basilisk would run screaming from _Lily_ and she knows it. I don’t know what she saw, but it wasn’t that.”

It was nearly fifteen minutes before James left the office. His eyes were red-rimmed. He nodded at them stiffly and then sped off without another word.

“All right, Al,” Harry said. He appeared in the doorway, looking nearly as traumatized as James had looked. His eyes were suspiciously red, too. “Your turn.”

“Dad, I’ve been thinking, do I really need to know how to do this? Because if everybody in my family knows, and Scorpius knows, I’ve got somebody to help me at all times if there happens to be a boggart—”

“You’ve got to.”

“ _Fine_. Can Scorpius come with me?”

“Absolutely.”

Scorpius smiled, relieved. He took Albus’s hand and walked with him into Harry’s office. Harry stepped over to the wardrobe in the corner and pressed his ear to the wood.

“Dad, James chose to do his boggart privately?”

“All my seventh years did theirs privately. I have so few in N.E.W.T. level that it worked better that way.”

“What did he see?”

Harry gave Albus a sour look. “Nice try. That’s James’s business. Ask him.”

“But I don’t think he’ll tell me,” Albus complained.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Ah—perfect, there he is scratching away. All right. Are you ready? Do we need to go over the spell again?”

“No, I remember— _Riddikulus_.”

“Right. Think of something funny.”

“What did James do to make his funny?”

“Nice try,” Harry repeated. “Ready?”

Albus sighed. “Yes, fine.”

Harry opened the wardrobe doors and stepped quickly to the side.

Scorpius walked out.

It was odd to see himself. He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or bothered by it. Part of him had worried that Albus might not need him as much as Scorpius needed him; that his fear might be something entirely different. That part was relieved to see his own boggart double. But the other part of him felt sad, as if he’d just come face to face with the darker parts of himself, the reality that he had the power to be the thing that could hurt Albus the most.

Boggart Scorpius stopped and stared at Albus. Albus stared back.

“Hi,” Albus finally said. He looked at Harry, relieved. “This is not frightening. I think your boggart is broken, Dad.”

And then Scorpius’s boggart double parted his lips to speak.

“I hate you,” he said, first and foremost, and the coldness seeping through each word was so genuine and severe that Albus flinched. “We aren’t friends anymore. We never were. I never liked you. I _pitied_ you. Slytherin Squib, disappointing son of Harry Potter, my disappointing friend. I can’t believe you ever thought I fancied you. ‘I love you’—ha! Don’t make me _laugh_. Pitiful Potter. A mistake, a birth defect. If only you’d never entered my compartment on the train, if only I’d never brought back the world in which you exist—”

Albus gripped his new wand tightly.

“Don’t listen to it,” Scorpius said. He reached forward and grasped Albus’s free hand. “It’s lying. Don’t listen.”

Albus glanced back at Scorpius, his mouth set into a line. “Sorry,” he said, and before Scorpius could ask, he’d turned back around, pointed his wand at the boggart Scorpius, and bellowed: “ _Riddikulus_!”

Scorpius’s double shrieked. He was suddenly in what could only be described as a golden leotard and tutu. Albus immediately began laughing. Scorpius’s double twisted his legs and crossed his arms over his chest. Scorpius let out a loud peal of laughter, and even Harry chuckled along. The boggart was quickly dispelled.

“That’s my new look, definitely,” Scorpius laughed. “I looked fetching, don’t you think? I’d get any date and any job!”

“Depends on what profession you’re aiming for,” Albus shot back, still chuckling himself.

“Brilliant, great job,” Harry praised. “Full marks. Have a sherbet lemon.”

He offered the dish to them. Both Scorpius and Albus took one. They waited as Harry wrote down Albus’s mark in his book.

“Dad?” Albus asked.

Harry looked up.

“What’s _your_ boggart?”

Harry blinked. “I thought Scorpius would’ve told you.”

Scorpius hadn’t felt like it was his place to do so. Albus shot him a surprised look, but before he could admonish his boyfriend, Harry’s office door slammed open. Scorpius jumped. He and Albus spun around to find Ginny in the doorway, pale and frenzied.

“Harry, it’s Aster,” she said.

Harry rose at once. “What?!” he walked around his desk and hurried over to Ginny. “What happened?”

They both turned and began walking at once. Albus and Scorpius automatically hurried after them. Scorpius’s heart was sinking. Aster, Lily’s Aster. Who would hurt her?

“She was heading towards class and somebody stunned her—she fell down two flights of stairs—nearly broke her neck,” Ginny said in a panicked rush. “She’s with Madam Pomfrey. Padma and Terry just arrived.”

“And Lily?”

“With her in the Hospital Wing. She saw the entire thing—except for who stunned Aster.”

Albus was falling behind quickly, unable to keep up with his parents’ uninhibited pace. Scorpius grasped Albus’s waist and half-carried him down the corridors towards the Hospital Wing. Everybody was in a state of panic when they stepped in; two adults Scorpius had never met before, but guessed were Aster’s parents, were nervously sat around her bedside. Lily was sniffling from a chair next to the bed, her eyes bloodshot. James and Nora were perched on the arms of Lily’s chair with their arms around her, grim expressions on their faces. Madam Pomfrey was trying to reassure the Boots.

“She’ll be okay, she’s just had some damage to her head, I can fix it and I’ve already mended the broken bones,” she promised them.

“Harry!” Mr. Boot said. He immediately walked over. He shook Harry’s hand, though his was quaking. “Who did this?”

How was Harry supposed to know? Harry looked equally taken aback.

“I’m not sure, Terry. I only just heard. Lily, tell me what happened.”

“W-we were w-w-walking t-to Herbology and we w-were talking and s-suddenly she just…stopped and went l-limp and before I could do _anything_ she fell down the stairs! I t-tried to do a c-c-cushioning charm, I’m so sorry, I tried but I messed up and—oh, is she going to _die?!_ ”

She succumbed to tears. She let her glasses fall onto her lap as she wiped fruitlessly at her streaming eyes.

“No, Ms. Potter, she is not going to _die_ ,” Madam Pomfrey said.

“Lily, it’s not your fault,” Mrs. Boot said gently. James rubbed Lily's back consolingly while Nora cleaned her glasses lenses. She slid the glasses back onto Lily's face a moment later. “Are you sure you didn’t see who did it?”

“No, I wasn’t looking around; I didn’t think that somebody would—”

“Lily! What happened?! Somebody said that Aster-- oh.”

They all froze as Caden Rowle rushed in. He looked a bit disheveled. He rushed over to Lily, his eyes flickering from her to Aster.

“Who are you?” Mr. Boot asked coldly.

“I’m…a friend,” Caden said, clearly affronted by Mr. Boot’s hostility.

“Somebody stunned her!” Lily cried. “She fell down the stairs!”

“ _What_?!” Caden said.

“Shh! I think she’s waking up!” Madam Pomfrey said urgently. “Aster? Ms. Boot? Can you hear me?”

“Ugh…am I dead?” Aster groaned.

Lily gave a watery giggle.

“No, Ms. Boot, you’re just fine. You fell down the stairs. Somebody stunned you. Did you see anything?”

Aster groaned again. She slowly opened her eyes. She smiled a second later. “Mummy! Dad!”

Mr. and Mrs. Boot smothered her in hugs and kisses. Aster’s eyes traveled over all the people grouped around her bed, her smile growing with each face until she spotted Caden Rowle. Her smile immediately vanished.

“What?” Mr. Boot said sharply. He hadn’t missed it. “What’s wrong, Aster?”

She lifted a shaky hand and pointed straight at Caden Rowle, her eyes hard. “He stunned me. _He_ did it. I remember. He was off to the side, his wand was pointed, I was about to say _hi_!”

Mr. Boot spun around furiously. Caden opened and closed his mouth wordlessly.

“What—me—I didn’t—I never— _what_?”

“Are you positive?” Ginny asked Aster gently.

“Yes. Yes. I was about to tell Lily that he was there! I thought he was waiting there for _her_!” Aster said.

Lily looked between Aster and Caden, her eyes widened in horror.

“What?” she finally asked. Her voice sounded terribly wounded.

“I _didn’t_!” Caden insisted, growing quite hysterical now. “Lily, I didn’t!”

“Let me see your wand,” Harry demanded. He stepped forward and held his hand out.

“Fine,” Caden said immediately. “Here! Check it!”

They watched as Harry pressed the tip of his wand to Caden’s wand. After a moment, a brief, shadowy image of Aster falling limply to the ground sprouted from the joined tips. Caden stumbled back, horrified.

“No! No! I didn’t! I didn’t do it! I didn’t!”

“James,” Harry said, his voice cold. “Please go get McGonagall.”

“No! I _DIDN’T_! Lily! Lily, tell them! I wouldn’t!”

Lily looked more horrified than anybody else. For a moment, she couldn’t seem to say anything at all, until:

“I let you kiss me on my mouth, you dung-eating prick! And you tried to kill my best friend?!”

“No! Lily, I didn’t! I swear on my life! Somebody must’ve…Imperiused me! I didn’t do it!”

Lily looked disgusted. “And you don’t even have the respect to tell me the truth! Emi was right. You’re hopeless. You’re all hopeless and awful. There’s no point in trying. I was stupid for thinking I could help.”

“ _Lily_ ,” he groaned, furious and frightened. “I didn’t! Why don’t you believe me?! I thought you liked me! You said that you liked me!”

Lily looked away from him. She stared hard at the wall across from her, her jaw set.

“I will _never_ like you even half as much as I like Aster. Not even if you _hadn’t_ tried to kill her.”

Even though Rowle was probably an almost-murderer, the venom with which Lily spat those words left Scorpius feeling slightly bad for the boy, who appeared to genuinely like Lily. He looked stung. That wounded expression hardly wavered as McGonagall arrived and ushered him to her office. Lily sniffled after the door slammed. She pulled her feet up into the chair, wrapped her arms around her legs, and periodically wiped angrily at her mouth.

Aster looked to Harry.

“Does this mean I don’t have to do my homework?”

* * *

By Wednesday, everybody knew that Aster Boot had been attacked, that Caden Rowle had been given an entire year’s worth of detentions, and that he was tirelessly swearing to anybody who would listen that he’d been Imperiused.

“Rubbish,” Rose hissed towards them. She was bent over her cauldron. Her hair was three times bushier than normal thanks to the steam. “That’s what the Death Eaters always claimed, too. During the First _and_ the Second Wizarding Wars.”

Scorpius wasn’t sure he agreed, but he was afraid to voice that opinion to Rose, out of fear that he’d seem sympathetic towards Rowle. He was forced to mind his every word more and more each day; as the tensions between ex-Death Eater’s kids, those who believed them, and everybody else intensified, he had to make sure everybody was very clear on where he stood.

And yet…he couldn’t help but feel like Rowle might have been telling the truth.

“But how would we know?” Albus whispered back. “That’s what bothers me…there should be a way to tell if someone’s been Imperiused.”

“Who here would be able to do a successful Imperius curse in the first place?” Rose scoffed. “Certainly not Halloran Carrow’s friends. James said their crucio felt like paper cuts.”

They quieted as Slughorn approached them. He leaned over and peered into Rose’s Calming Draught. He studied the silky, periwinkle surface and smiled.

“Brilliant, Ms. Granger-Weasley! Ten points to Gryffindor—you’ll finish well before our lesson is complete! Mr. Malfoy, let’s take a look…”

Scorpius leaned nervously into Albus’s side as Slughorn examined his own potion, which was a bit more baby blue than periwinkle but still earned him a smile from Slughorn.

“Coming along nicely—don’t forget the eel eyes, you’d better grab some if you haven’t already, our school stock is running low for some reason…ah! Mr. Potter,” Slughorn turned and appraised Albus’s cauldron. He had been having a difficult time with it because standing for long periods of time was still difficult if not impossible. Scorpius had combined both his, Rose’s, and his own school books to place on Albus’s stool, to elevate him enough to freely see into his cauldron while sitting, but the books had a tendency of slipping when he leaned forwards, and he’d nearly gone sprawling onto his back a couple of times (an event that would’ve led to cruel snickering before Albus became ‘the Boy Who Survived’, but now, four girls—including Polly Chapman—rushed immediately to his aid, giggling like fools. Rose had scoffed at them, said ‘not likely, girls’, and then waved them away; Scorpius found himself plotting ways to keep Rose around them at all times to serve as girl repellant).

Slughorn reached for the ladle and gently stirred Albus’s potion. It was still midnight blue.

“Having trouble?” he asked. His voice was creased with obvious concern.

“No,” Albus said immediately. But his forehead was damp with sweat and his arms were trembling a bit from exhaustion, thanks to the excessive use he’d put them to in holding him upright.

“He’s got brain damage,” Rose whispered to Slughorn.

“Rose!” Scorpius scolded on instinct. She ignored him.

“Not like…damage-damage! His legs are weak from his brain bleed! He’s taking the Cerebral Clarification Potion, Professor.”

Slughorn’s face opened with understanding. “Ah—and standing at your cauldron is difficult. That’s why your performance has been...a little worse than usual.”

Albus avoided Slughorn’s eyes. He shrugged.

“Why didn’t you just come to me about this, my boy? That potion can take months to have the desired effects. We can fix this, certainly we can fix this,” Slughorn said, and for a moment, Scorpius genuinely believed he meant Albus’s weak legs. He halfway expected Slughorn to pull a vial of some top-secret potion from his robes, but instead, he withdrew his wand, pointed it at Albus’s stool, murmured an incantation Scorpius didn’t catch—and then the stool rose up until Albus was at the perfect height.

“Er…thanks,” Albus said. He looked a bit disappointed. Scorpius guessed he’d thought the same thing, too. 

“Don’t mention it,” Slughorn said, still smiling widely. “Now, you three—you’re coming to my Slug Club dinner, correct?”

“Er…”

“I purposefully put it off until you were back from St. Mungo’s, Albus.”

“Erm…”

“We’ll be there,” Rose told Slughorn. “All three of us,” she added firmly.

“Brilliant! Oh, and, er—thirty points to Slytherin. Because.”

“Because…what?” Scorpius asked, confused, but Slughorn was already weaving his way towards Yann and Karl’s table.

“That man is frightfully corrupt when it comes to student-professor relations,” Rose commented. She shot a sideways glance towards Albus. “Albus, you’ve got to _gently grind_ the unicorn horn, not _whack at it_!”

“Oh,” Albus said, his teeth gritted, his piece of unicorn horn and the grater held precariously in his lap, because now he couldn’t reach the tabletop, “of _course_ , thanks, _Rose_ , it’s just so easy for me to do that in my own lap.”

Scorpius stifled his laughter. Rose shook her head.

“Honestly, as much as I love them, I sometimes feel it was a bit irresponsible and unfair to our society for Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry to have kids—their combined sass is a curse.”

“Well, next time every couple will ask you for permission before procreating, Rose,” Albus said. “You can create little charts about whose traits work best with whose and become the supreme dictator that you’ve always wanted to be. All hail Rose Granger-Weasley, Queen of Shagging and Genetics.”

Rose stared at him for a long moment. She looked back at Scorpius.

“Honestly, he makes all my arguments for me,” she hissed to him. “I just let him talk and it completely makes my point with no effort on my part.”

Scorpius grinned.

“I love it,” he admitted. He could pretend his pink cheeks were from the steam. “Albus-y Albus and his dry humor and his sass and his warmth.”

“Warmth?” Rose questioned skeptically. Scorpius thought about explaining that he meant his literal body temperature, but decided that might open doors to questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer from Albus’s cousin. “And of course _you_ love his attitude, because you love him. You’re biased.”

Easy, effortless, right.

“Yeah, that’s true, I do,” he agreed.

From his side, Albus’s hand slipped on the grater. The unicorn horn piece went flying forward and landed with a loud splash into his cauldron. It turned jet black a moment later. Albus was flustered.

“Damn it,” he groaned.

Rose circled round, rolled up her sleeve, and promptly sunk her entire arm into Albus’s cauldron, feeling around for the unicorn horn.

“Al, I do hope your grip’s better during Quidditch tryouts, or you’ve got no hope,” she said. “Ah ha!” she withdrew the unicorn horn piece, Scourgified her arms, and passed it back to Albus. After a couple stirs, his potion returned to its previous shade.

“Here, give me that,” she snapped when she saw Albus beginning to pull the ingredients back onto his lap.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver,” Albus said thankfully. Rose sat down and began preparing all of Albus’s ingredients. He continued. “And I don’t know if I’m trying out for the team. Scorpius is, though.”

“Excuse me, sorry, _no_ ,” he told his boyfriend, furrowing his brow in affront. “Together or not at all, that was the rule, that was the plan—I am _not_ joining the team without you. Either we both try out, or nobody does.”

Albus made a face at him. Scorpius made a sillier one right back. Albus grinned despite his annoyance.

“You’d both better try out! Your mum’s worked hard to schedule all the tryouts in this week—every team is behind on tryouts because Madam Hooch’s place still hadn’t been filled when classes started, but now that Aunt Ginny’s here, things can _finally_ get going again.”

“We’ll see,” Albus said shortly.

“He’ll be there, even if I have to drag him,” Scorpius amended.

Rose grinned. “That’s what I like to hear!”

* * *

After Potions ended, they made their way down a familiar path. Albus pushed the door to his parents’ living quarters open without knocking. He limped his way in, every muscle shaky with exhaustion, as they typically were at the end of each school day.

“I’m tired and hungry,” he greeted Ginny, and then he collapsed into the nearest armchair, his cane clattering to the floor. Scorpius shut the door behind them. 

“Hello to you too, Al,” Ginny said. She sat up. She’d been sprawled out on her stomach on the massive bed placed right in the middle of the living room; Scorpius was still unclear on why the Potters had insisted on adding a bed, when there were already two, but every time he and Albus’s visited, the Potters were reclined on that bed with five Pygmy Puffs, five cats, and loads of parchment and quills.

Ginny gently shooed a few Pygmy Puffs from their place in her hair and rose from the bed. She pulled Scorpius into a warm, flowery-smelling hug, one that he gave back with equal affection. She leaned back and looked down at him.

“How are things?” she asked seriously. “Anybody bothering you? Classes going all right? Any professors I should hex?”

Scorpius grinned. He shook his head. “No, it’s good! Well—clearly not good. Three people were hexed today! But, you know, Albus and I haven’t been bothered.”

She set a brief hand atop his head. “Good,” she said.

“I’ve got a professor you can hex, Mum,” Albus said. Ginny crossed over to him and perched on the arm of the chair. She pulled him into a tight hug. “His name’s Professor Potter and he keeps assigning stupid essays.”

Ginny kissed Albus’s hair. She rolled her eyes at him a moment later.

“Albus, your dad isn’t assigning difficult essays. All you’ve got to do is write about a time Dark Magic impacted your life, the first time you experienced a Dark creature, or the first time you remember learning about Dark Magic. You could write about any of those topics easily.”

“Yeah…but…I don’t want to?”

“Too bad, so sad, tell your dad,” she sang.

“I _did_ and he said—”

“To get over it!” Harry completed. He stepped out of the spare bedroom, a length of parchment in hand. “Hey, Al, Scorpius! How was Potions?”

“Exhausting,” Albus said. “Why were you in the spare bedroom?”

“We’ve been recording the portrait bloke’s memoir for him. Fascinating…the things he says…” Harry trailed off. He shook his head a moment later, as if clearing his thoughts. “Lily and James are supposed to come by, too, Gin. I think our Potter Wednesdays are slowly catching on.”

“Brilliant! I’ll get the Exploding Snap set.” She picked up a chubby, orange cat, cradled it in her arms like an infant, and then headed towards the room that was _supposed_ to be the bedroom. As the door opened, Scorpius heard an unknown voice say _you’re looking well-rested, my lady, and your thighs are absolutely del—_

“Marcus!” Harry boomed. “That doesn’t count as polite!”

“But it’s favorable!” the voice yelled back.

“It’s creepy!” Harry corrected.

The voice fell silent. Albus and Scorpius exchanged a concerned look.

“Dad…?”

“Hm?” Harry asked.

“Have you locked a man in the bedroom?”

“What? No. No, that’s Marcus. The mirror.”

“Er…okay?”

“Yeah, he’s right beside the bed, and he has too many opinions about people’s appearances. I’m working on it. You kids can't meet him until your mum and I teach him manners. Biscuit?”

Scorpius and Albus both accepted the offered biscuit. Scorpius walked around and wedged into the armchair with Albus, though he didn’t quite fit; he was sitting half on his lap. Albus didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped his arms around Scorpius at once. Scorpius quickly kissed his cheek, his heart swelling once more with affection. He couldn’t _wait_ until bedtime. Their bedtime routine was arguably the best routine to ever exist in Scorpius’s life, and that included his reading-before-breakfast routine.

“ _ARG_!” Harry suddenly screamed. Scorpius quickly looked his way; a fluffy, white Persian cat had just landed atop his head, its nails flexing into Harry’s scalp. “GINNY!”

There was a crashing sound. A second later, Ginny ran out of the bedroom, her wand held ready, the orange cat darting after her.

“What?! What?!” her eyes scanned around the room for an intruder.

Harry pointed at his head. “Fitzroy!”

Ginny sighed. “Next time you take that tone because of a cat, I’ll hex you for frightening me!”

Ginny walked over, rose up onto her tiptoes, and pried the cat from Harry’s head.

“Leave his hair alone, Fitz!” she scolded softly. “It’s messy enough all on its own without your input.” The cat settled into her arms and purred.

“Hey, Albus, do you want a cat?” Harry asked. “Specifically Fitzroy?”

“No,” Albus said immediately. “I don’t want Fitzroy, or Callisto, or Zephyros, or Nico, and especially not Gerlind.”

Ginny scoffed. She walked over and lifted the fat orange cat again; it curled up in her left arm, its bottom resting on top of Fitzroy’s.

“Good, because you especially can’t have Gerlind,” she said. The orange cat rubbed its face against her arm affectionately. “Harry, if you’d just spend some time with Fitz and Gerlind, you’ll realize that they’re actually—”

“Cats from Hell—Hellcats? No, thanks, I’m fine. Eoforwine and I will get along just fine without those cats.”

Harry had scooped the red Pygmy Puff up from the bed. It immediately cuddled up to his neck. He leaned over and scratched underneath the chin of ragdoll cat that was snoozing with four other Pygmy Puffs. “And Nico’s all right. Nico is a nice cat.”

Nico the nice cat didn’t stir. Ginny walked over and sank down onto the sofa adjacent from Albus and Scorpius.

“Gerlind and Fitzroy had a fight with Egg earlier this week,” Ginny explained.

“A fight? You call two hairy nail-beasts flying at poor Egg a _fight_? Because I call it an attack—an assassination attempt,” Harry muttered. He crossed his arms. “Egg is an old, gentle soul who didn’t deserve that.”

Albus looked around for the owl. “Where is Egg? Is he okay?”

“He’s hiding with Scout in the Owlery. He’s a bit traumatized,” Ginny said. “Okay despite frazzled nerves, though. I think Rose might take Fitzroy. He’s the troublemaker.”

Scorpius watched the cat called Fitzroy suddenly swipe bossily at Gerlind, demanding more room. Gerlind screamed and jumped from Ginny’s arms. She darted across the room and dove beneath the bed.

“I think Rose and Fitzroy are a great fit,” Scorpius blurted. The Potters laughed.

Scorpius and Albus went down to the kitchens with Harry to get dinner to take back to the Potters’ temporary home, and by the time they returned, Lily, Aster, James, and Nora were there. James and Nora were stretched out on the sofa—James appeared to be lightly snoozing as Nora massaged his shoulders—and Lily and Aster were on their stomachs on the carpet, trying to coax cats out from underneath the bed. Ginny waved her wand and levitated the hampers of food over onto the table.

“All right, you lot, wash hands,” she ordered. Lily and Albus groaned. James had to be shaken awake.

“Wha—?! Attack? Someone hurt? Patrol? McGonagall?” he jumped suddenly to his feet, swaying with exhaustion, his eyes widened in panic. “What?! Potions essay?”

The conversations stopped. Everybody stared at James. Ginny walked over and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

“It’s all right,” she comforted. “Come on, let’s have dinner, you’re really overworking yourself, James, I’ve tried to tell you…”

“I’m fine, I’m lovely, tell her, Nora, tell her I’m lovely,” James argued. He let Ginny push him down into a chair at the table, though.

Nora sank down into the seat beside James.

“He’s lovely…but he also fell asleep into his porridge this morning, which was not so lovely,” Nora told Ginny. "Do you know how hard it is to wash dried porridge out of hair?"

“Oh yes, it's a nightmare. James, perhaps you should give something up. The Sevens or Quidditch Captain or Head Boy or…” Ginny realized halfway through that there was no chance of any of that. “At least patrol less so you can get more sleep.”

“I’ll have to now that Quidditch is starting back up,” he yawned. “The problem is that most of us in the Sevens are on the Quidditch team, so we’ve been trying to work out a new schedule, but it’s difficult when most of us have no idea what the practice schedules will be yet…”

Ginny, James, and Nora sank into a detailed conversation about the Quidditch schedules that bored Scorpius immensely. Harry was sneaking tiny pieces of food to the red Pygmy Puff Eoforwine and seemed to think nobody noticed. And Albus had his hand on Scorpius’s thigh from beneath the table, rubbing lightly, almost absentmindedly, as he ate. Scorpius tried to ignore it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He cleared his throat and looked across the table to Lily and Aster, hoping that joining in a conversation would distract him.

“So if we do thirty galleons a piece, multiply that by ten, then we’ll have plenty,” Lily whispered.

“Or we could even do thirty-five and use the surplus to boost our reserves,” Aster mumbled back. She suddenly whipped her head around and locked eyes with Scorpius. He flushed.

“Hi,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard anything. “How are you feeling, Aster? Did Caden Rowle finally stop harassing you two?”

“Finally. Lily had to get Slughorn to help, but he finally stopped sending us apology flowers.”

Scorpius nodded. He regretted asking that at once—now that the topic had been brought up, he realized it was one of the last things he wanted to talk about. “Oh. Good.”

“We were talking about him in Potions,” Albus said. “Dad, why isn’t there a way to tell with certainty whether or not somebody has or hasn’t been Imperiused?”

Harry slyly dropped a tiny floret of broccoli to his plate, as if he hadn’t just been holding it to the Pygmy Puff’s tiny mouth.

“I don’t know, but it’s a definite problem, one that I had to deal with almost daily when I was an Auror,” Harry shared. “It’s always been an issue. I think Rowle actually pleaded with McGonagall to testify to his innocence underneath Veritaserum, so we’ll see what happens with that...if she’s given Ministry permission and parental approval, that is. ”

“And speaking of the Imperius curse…” Ginny began, shooting a significant glance Harry’s way. Harry frowned. _Now?_ he mouthed to Ginny. She nodded. He turned back to them.

“Albus…we need to talk about Carrow’s trial.”

Albus’s hand froze on Scorpius’s thigh. He looked uneasily at his parents.

“What about it?”

“It’s set for the week after your birthday. And…we have reason to believe Halloran Carrow is going to claim _he_ was Imperiused.”

“That’s rubbish!” Lily cried. “He was bullying me from day one!”

“Yes, we think he’s going to claim he was Imperiused over the summer.”

“He wasn’t,” Albus said fiercely. His hand tightened on Scorpius’s thigh. Scorpius winced and reached down, gently prying Albus’s fingers open and weaving their fingers together instead. “He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to kill my dad!”

“ _We_ all know that, certainly,” Ginny said calmly. “As it gets closer, you’ll _all_ need to spend time preparing your statements with Harry.”

Scorpius frowned. “We’re going to have to testify?”

“Absolutely. You lot were the eyewitnesses.”

Albus stabbed his chicken moodily. “Can’t they just lock him up without a trial?” he grumbled.

“No, and you already know that, Al,” Harry said. He hesitated. “And I know you don’t mean that, I know you’re only saying it, but _please_ don’t say that anywhere but here. You can’t imagine the trouble it would cause if somebody overheard a Potter saying that. We _have_ to give Halloran Carrow a perfectly fair trial—to the letter. It’s extremely important.”

They ate an obscene amount of treacle tart, played a violent game of Exploding Snap that led to nosebleeds for Ginny and James, and then they set off towards their respective dorms.

“I can’t _wait_ to testify,” Lily admitted. She rubbed her hands together. “An entire room of important adults who have to listen to whatever I say for at least twenty minutes with no interruptions. It’s a dream.”

“It’s going to be awful,” James told them cheerfully. “Still—maybe we’ll get to go to the Burrow for dinner afterwards.”

“No fair,” Aster grumbled. “ _I_ want to go to the Burrow…”

Scorpius nearly agreed, but then he remembered that he _would_ get to go, too. He was feeling much more positive about the situation after that realization.

* * *

Scorpius woke abruptly to the sound of rapid whispering, and the first thing he noticed upon waking (outside of the whispering) was Albus’s sweltering body spooning his. They hadn’t gone to sleep in the same bed; they’d stopped doing that after Albus returned to Hogwarts, due to the tensions within the dorm. So Scorpius was generously confused to find his boyfriend in bed with him, gripping his body tightly in his dreams.

“In the Hospital Wing, yeah,” Malcolm hissed.

“Blimey. How bad?” asked Omri.

“I dunno, Evvie caught me eavesdropping, she dragged me back into the Common Room by my collar.”

Evvie. Scorpius _had_ been drifting back off, but at the sound of that familiar name, he perked up. He wiped at his sweaty face (cuddling with Albus did have its slight drawbacks) and listened closely.

“She thinks she’s the sodding Head of House,” Malcolm scoffed. “Wouldn’t let me leave, either. What happened to the Gryffindors that did it? Fredericks and Jenkins and who else?”

“Weasley.”

Scorpius’s heart jolted.

“Which one?”

“I dunno, one of the ones.”

“Well, was it the Minister for Magic kids or the joke shop kids or the Veela kids—”

“Mate, I _don’t know!_ All they said was _Weasley_!”

“Blimey. Should we wake Albus?”

“Huh? Why would we wake Albus?”

“Because it’s his family! He’s a Weasley.”

“No, he’s not, he’s a Potter.”

“…You really are out of touch with current times, aren’t you? Have you ever even read a newspaper?”

“Shut up. So what do you think they’re going to do?”

“To the Gryffindors and a Weasley? Ha! Nothing, I’m sure.”

“They’ll be punished, of course they will.”

“Not sternly enough. Not as much as we’d be punished if it’d been reversed.”

“…True.”

The conversation lulled. Confident he’d heard enough to know that something bad had happened that warranted immediate action, Scorpius slowly loosened Albus’s grip on him, turned around, and peered at his sleeping face. He almost didn’t want to wake him; he looked so peaceful. But he knew Albus would be extremely angry if he didn’t. He shifted forward, draped his arm over Albus’s waist, and kissed his nose.

“Albus,” he whispered.

Albus didn’t even stir. He leaned forward and kissed his lips.

“A _l-bussss_ ,” he sang.

He kept on snoozing. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the tip of Albus’s. He traced his nose down Albus’s cheek. He kissed his lips again.

“ _ALBUS_!” he hissed loudly.

Albus gave a start and jerked awake.

“Arg! No! Not nice! Not—kind!” he gasped.

“Sorry,” Scorpius whispered.

Albus slowly opened his eyes. He frowned. “How’d I get here?”

“What? I thought you came here?”

“What? No. I went to sleep in my bed.”

“Oh…then we’ve possibly got an issue…aliens or sleep-walking or—that’s not important right now. Albus, something happened.”

“What? What do you mean?” Albus sat straight up, suddenly wide awake.

“One of your cousins. I’m not sure which one. Something happened with Gryffindors and Slytherins.”

“Are they okay?”

“Not sure. Some people are in the Hospital Wing.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Albus climbed from the bed. He darted back over to his. He ignored the greetings that Malcolm and Omri called his way and briefly acknowledged their warnings of ‘something’s up with one of your cousins, mate’. He grabbed two things and hurried back over to Scorpius’s bed, jumped back onto it, and then pulled the hangings shut around them.

“Lumos,” he said. And then: “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

They bowed their heads together and scanned the map, their eyes landing at once on the Hospital Wing.

“Rose,” Scorpius said, horrified.

“Those names…” Albus pointed at three. “Halloran’s friends, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. Rose, Yann, and Karl…what was she _doing_?”

“Probably trying to stop them, nosy little Prefect,” Albus said.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“Let’s go find out.”

“Er—we can’t. Evvie’s not letting us leave.”

“Who cares about Evvie? I’ve got James’s cloak still.”

“He really should take better care of that thing.”

They threw it over themselves, crept carefully to the Common Room, and made their way confidently to the passage. Only to realize that they _should’ve_ cared about Evvie. She was lying horizontally on the passage floor, a thick blanket beneath her, a book held open in front of her face. To get past her, they’d have to step _over_ her, and she’d surely feel the cloak.

“Damn,” Albus muttered. “James must’ve told her.”

“Maybe she just likes lying on the freezing cold stone floor?” Scorpius suggested.

“Perhaps…want to try?”

“Sure, why not? I don’t think she’d kill us, she likes James too much.”

They held their breath, crept slowly forward, and then slowly lifted their feet. Scorpius stared at the floor on the other side of Evvie’s waist. He very carefully shifted his weight from one foot to the next, stepped over her, and grinned. For a moment, he thought they’d done it, and then:

“Go back to bed, Albus,” Evvie said. She turned the page in her book.

Albus groaned. He pulled the cloak off.

“Evvie, what happened to my cousin Rose?”

“Nothing. She wasn’t even really involved. She caught the Gryffindor boys in the act,” she responded, her eyes still on her book pages.

“Then why’s she in the Hospital Wing?” Albus challenged.

She looked up at them. “She’s giving a statement to McGonagall. And give me that cloak, that’s James’s.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“ _Accio Cloak_ ,” she said.

“Nuh-uh,” Albus grinned tauntingly. “Won’t work on _this_ cloak.”

“It’s special,” Scorpius added. “But that’s a secret.”

Evvie sighed. She looked up. “Merlin, I’m too old for this.”

“You’re like…eighteen at most.”

“Look,” she said. “Your dad’s handling things. Yann Fredericks and Karl Jenkins decided to go rouge and ‘take out the Death Eaters’. They hexed Halloran Carrow’s friends as they were walking back from the library. They’re fine, but the Gryffindors are in trouble, and I’ve just spent all night trying to talk angry Slytherins out of retaliating, and you _know_ how determined we are. I’m tired. I had other plans for tonight, plans that were ruined because a pair of fifth years decided to take matters into their own hands, so I _don’t_ need another pair of fifth years doing the same. Go back inside. Now.”

Albus looked like he wanted very much to argue, but seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this one. Scorpius yawned.

“C’mon,” he urged. He took Albus’s hand and tugged. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Albus reluctantly trailed after Scorpius. They both climbed back into Scorpius’s bed without any prior discussion on their sleeping arrangements needed. Albus wrapped his body back around Scorpius’s. He buried his face into Scorpius’s neck.

“Idiots. Karl and Yann are idiots,” he mumbled.

“We’ve known _that_ since day one,” Scorpius pointed out.

“They’ve just made this worse…mark my words…so much worse.”

Scorpius felt like that’s all anybody was doing anymore—making things worse.

* * *

When they entered the Great Hall the next morning—late, out of breath, disheveled—they were greeted by an unusual sight.

“What are they doing?” Albus said, deadpanned.

At the Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor tables, the Sevens were all standing. A few were still eating breakfast (James, Louis, Roxanne, Jacques, Sara, Ben) and they were actually holding their plates in the air to do so. Others (Evvie, Clementine, Bec, Nora) were reading. Scorpius and Albus exchanged baffled looks, turned, and marched right over to James.

“James, what are you doing?” Albus demanded.

James didn’t look at him. He didn’t turn to him. He merely reached into his pocket, pulled out a small square of duplicated parchment, and resumed eating. Albus brought it over where Scorpius could see it, too.

 **STAND WITH US**  
**JOIN US IN THE DADA CLASSROOM AT EIGHT PM TONIGHT**  
**ALL HOUSES WELCOME – EVERY STUDENT WELCOME**  
**ASK US ABOUT OUR SILENCE**

“Er…okay?” Albus said. “Tell me about your…er…silence.”

James beamed. “Well, I’m glad you asked, Al! Today, none of us will be speaking about anything but House equality. Until all Houses can communicate kindly and effectively, we won’t be communicating at all.”

“How are you and Evvie supposed to be Head students if you’re not talking?”

“A wand says a million words.”

“No…that’s not actually…right.”

James mimed locking his mouth shut, threw the ‘key’ over his shoulder, and then turned back to his breakfast.

“This year just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Albus muttered underneath his breath.

* * *

At half-past eight that night, they arrived at the DADA classroom. Scorpius had expected maybe three students, but he soon found he’d severely underestimated the impact of the Sevens’ little display that day. He was shocked to find the classroom stuffed with a large number of people. It looked like nearly every upper year Hufflepuff was there, including Iset, who actually looked _happy_ for once, giggling away in a corner with a few other Hufflepuff girls. Sigmund, Omri, and Malcolm had made an appearance (they were chatting up a trio of sixth year Ravenclaw girls). All the Sevens were scattered about the room socializing, Hugo was chatting intensely with Roxanne and a few other Gryffindor girls, and Ben was trying to stand upright on a toy broom, much to the amusement of the surrounding students and the annoyance of Evvie Wilson.

“Albus! Scorpius!”

Scorpius and Albus turned at the sound of Nora’s voice. She hurried over to them, two butterbeers in hand.

“Here you go! I’m glad you came! Here, might want to let me hang your robes up, it’s stifling in here.”

They handed them over, and now that she said that, Scorpius realized that everybody _was_ robe-less. Most had the sleeves of their shirts rolled up. Nora herself was wearing James’s old Quidditch tee; _Potter 1_ shone in bright gold lettering as she turned around to place their robes on the rack.

“So, we’ve got four different activities going,” she continued, once she turned back around to face them. She pointed to the far right corner, where Iset, Rose, and a variety of other students were laughing. “That’s our storytelling corner. Somebody starts a story, you take turns adding onto it, but the catch is: you can’t use magic in the story. The first person who makes a character use magic has to take a shot.”

Scorpius snapped his head back towards Nora. “What?!”

“Well, not a _real_ shot. It’s from George and Ron’s shop. False liquor. Just makes you giggle uncontrollably for a few minutes.”

 _Ah_. So that’s why Iset Goyle looked so uncharacteristically unburdened. For some reason, that revelation made Scorpius’s heart ache.

“And there is our Exploding Snap card house—there’s a model to the left, first person to complete the card house just as it’s depicted without losing their eyebrows wins one hundred galleons.”

“Whoa,” Albus said, impressed. “You lot are serious about all this.”

“Serious as spattergroit,” Nora affirmed. “And there is our third event—James is supervising—the person who can balance on the toy broomstick the longest gets a kiss from Louis or Bec.”

Scorpius laughed. “The line’s so long!”

“I’d get in it, but I’ve already won twice,” Nora teased. “And our final activity is there—” she pointed to the corner closest to them. Students were lounging around an easel, some from each House. “I’m supposed to be over there painting portraits, actually. I’d better get back. Help yourself to whatever food you like, it’s on Harry’s desk! Have fun!”

She disappeared into the crowd in the direction of her easel. Scorpius and Albus hesitated.

“Well, what should we do first?”

“I definitely don’t want to kiss my cousin.”

“ _I_ would kiss your cousin…”

Albus elbowed him. They both laughed. Albus pointed towards the Exploding Snap. “There?”

“Yeah, all right!”

* * *

They nearly managed to complete the card house before their cards exploded. After narrowly avoiding first degree burns, they decided to move on.

They stood at Harry’s desk eating disgusting amounts of food for a while, and then Scorpius spotted Iset from the corner of his eye, sitting in a chair along the far wall. He nudged Albus. Albus glanced over and looked back at Scorpius. He nodded.

Albus carried over a lemon cake and Scorpius carried over a butterbeer. They sat down on either side of her. She jumped as she pulled herself from her thoughts.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” they chorused. They passed her the lemon cake and butterbeer. She was so flustered that her hands were shaking as she took them.

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes wide.

“Sure,” Albus said. “Er…are you having fun?”

“Oh. Yeah! It’s a lot more crowded than I expected, though…” she admitted.

“Yeah, it’s a bit cramped in here,” Scorpius agreed.

She tore off tiny pieces of the lemon cake and ate each piece individually, her legs bouncing anxiously all the while. Albus looked over her head towards Scorpius. He gave him a pleading look, clearly requesting to leave, because Iset’s fidgeting was making _them_ nervous, too. But before Scorpius could come up with an excuse, somebody else joined them.

“Are they bothering you?” Rose asked.

Albus blinked. “Huh? Why would my boyfriend and Iset be bothering me?”

She scoffed. “I’m not talking to _you.”_

Scorpius frowned. He looked down at his knees in confusion. “Why would they be bothering _me_ …?”

“Not _you,_ either!” Rose snapped, and without another word, she wedged herself between Albus and Iset, nearly pushing Albus off his own seat entirely. Albus glowered. “Did you try the cinnamon honey cakes, Iset? Sara made them.”

“Yeah, they were really good!” Iset said, and as Scorpius watched, something _amazing_ happened. Something that could only be attributed to Rose’s sudden appearance. Iset’s legs stopped bouncing. Her hands stopped fidgeting. And she _smiled._

Scorpius glanced to Albus, only to find him already looking towards him. They were both slack-jawed. Was that it, then? Was Iset just scared of them? Or, no—boys in general?

He knew that the Hufflepuffs had Herbology, Transfiguration, and Divination with the Gryffindors, but he’d never seen Rose socializing with many of them before. So it was surprising to realize that Rose and Iset were, at the very least, acquaintances. They fell into an easy conversation that was full of inside jokes and half-explained stories. Rose made Iset laugh more times than Scorpius could count. He was stunned. It was difficult to merge the image he had of Iset with one that _giggled_. 

“So you two are friends, then?” Albus finally asked, amused. “You’ve gotten over your prejudice against Death Eater’s kids, Rose?”

Rose glared. “Iset hardly counts as a Death Eater’s kid. As far as we’re concerned, her dad doesn’t exist.”

Iset nodded once, firmly. Albus was grinning. He barely seemed to have heard a word that Rose said.

“So you _are_ friends, then? Eh, Rose? Just friends or…?”

 _Ooh_ , Scorpius thought, _this is more interesting than anything that’s happened all day, and that’s saying something!_ Because at Albus’s question, Rose’s smile faltered just for a second and Iset’s cheeks turned rosy. Scorpius was very familiar with that scene.

“Don’t be a prat, Albus,” Rose spat. Scorpius noticed she’d failed to answer the question.

He and Albus both made a quick excuse to leave, their words overlapping each other’s in their rush to escape. They took refuge near the toy broom corner.

“ _Holy Merlin’s bollocks_ ,” Albus breathed.

Scorpius clapped his hands together and cackled. “Oh, this is great. This is _great_.”

“Okay, okay…let’s not get ahead of ourselves…we wouldn’t want to misread and then get disappointed…I mean, this _is_ Rose…she _did_ shun you for years just because your dad is Draco Malfoy…I doubt she’d be so quick to get over the fact that Iset is a _Goyle…_ ”

Scorpius was still cackling. He couldn’t seem to stop. “Look, I know what I saw. I _know_ what I saw! You can’t hide that from me! Oh, _brilliant_.”

They were in wonderful, impenetrable moods for the rest of the night.

* * *

“I don’t know about this.”

“Albus, we’re already _here_ ,” Scorpius said. He was getting slightly annoyed. “You’re up next. It’s too late to turn back now.”

“It’s not,” Albus hissed back. The hand holding his broom was trembling somewhat. “I can still run.”

“Al, you _can’t_ run. You can barely walk…”

“Potter! You’re up!” Jacques Stinton called.

Albus spared Scorpius one of his intense, hard looks. “You’ll pay for that,” he whispered darkly. Scorpius grinned.

“I look forward to it!” he called to Albus, as he stalked onto the pitch. Albus glowered back at him. Scorpius gave him a double thumbs up.

Albus mounted his broom, flanked by the Slytherin team’s two Chasers. Scorpius felt the wind whip next to him as Ginny flew down and landed beside him.

“Here we go,” she said nervously, her eyes locked on Albus. “Oh, I hope he doesn’t get intimidated by the people watching…”

Ginny and Scorpius held their breath as Albus got possession of the Quaffle. He sped towards the opposite goals, dodged a player, very narrowly dodged another, and then—

 _Smack_. A bludger slammed right into Albus’s face. “ _Oooh_ ,” rang throughout the stands. Scorpius yelped.

“TIME OUT!” Ginny called immediately, her voice a bit wobbly in her panic. “Stop flying—I _SAID STOP FLYING, MARTES!”_

The Quidditch captain, Jacques, reached Albus first. As he steadied him, Albus turned somewhat, and Scorpius realized why Ginny had been so nervous. Blood was streaming from Albus’s nose at an alarming rate. The Healers had said—after the curse—

“Move!” Ginny ordered, weaving her way through players. She came to a stop in front of Albus. She stuck a quivering hand into her robs, searching for something…

Scorpius hopped onto his own broom and sped towards them. He had the vial that she was looking for; the Healers had given all of them one, to make sure that somebody near Albus would have it in case of injury at all times. Right as he reached Ginny, though, she located the small bottle. Everybody watched in confusion as she tipped Albus’s head back and sprinkled the styptic powder and crushed dittany mixture onto his broken nose. She waited tensely, but thankfully, the blood stopped pouring a moment later.

“He’s fine,” she told the crowd. They continued staring. “Residual effect from the curse used on him. Continue on. Go on!”

After another moment’s pause, the rest of the players dispersed to other parts of the Quidditch pitch. Scorpius remained. Ginny’s hands were shaking so much that she had a difficult time doing the healing spell; Albus was watching her with worried eyes.

“Mum,” he finally said, his voice oddly nasally due to his injury. “Mum, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“It was a bad idea. It’s too soon. You shouldn’t be playing Quidditch, it’s too soon—”

“No!” he argued immediately. “I mean…Mum, this is _great_. Flying. I didn’t realize how much I missed being able to actually _move_. Look!” he turned on his broom, sped down the pitch, and then returned to them. “Easy! No limping, no shaking, no collapsing!”

Scorpius grinned, his heart warmed by the joy on Albus’s face. Ginny laughed softly.

“Just…be careful, okay? How do you feel? Let me see your pupils—”

Albus swatted Ginny’s hands away. “I’m _fine_. Go back down. Referee. Coach. Whatever it is you do now.”

“Okay…just…let me feel your forehead first…”

“ _Mum_!” Albus complained. “Please stop, you’re embarrassing me! People are watching!”

Scorpius turned and glanced around them. People _were_ turned in their direction, but it wasn’t really Albus they were looking at. Scorpius followed their gaze…

“Er…is that your Aunt Hermione?” he asked Albus.

Ginny and Albus looked in the direction Scorpius was pointing. Hermione, Harry, and McGonagall were standing at the edge of the pitch. Harry met Ginny’s eyes and drew his finger across his throat. Ginny seemed to understand at once what he was saying. She blew her whistle.

“Tryouts are over,” she said. Angry shouts filled the pitch. “No arguing. Come back tomorrow afternoon to complete them.”

“ _But we haven’t even—”_

“No arguing!”

The Slytherin players landed with annoyed groans and curses. They stalked off, shooting angry looks Ginny’s way every few moments. Scorpius, Albus, and Ginny dropped down onto the ground and met Harry, Hermione, and McGonagall halfway. Harry offered them a strained smile, Hermione reached over and patted their shoulders, and then Ginny gave them quick kisses to the forehead.

“Bye,” she told them.

“ _What_?!” Albus said, offended. “No! What’s going on?!”

“ _Bye_ , Albus,” Harry repeated. He pointed towards the school. “I’ll tell you later. Get back inside. Hurry now.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts. Up you go.”

Scorpius walked back up towards the castle. Albus _stomped_ back up towards the castle, which was an impressive feat considering he was walking with a cane.

* * *

Albus was so angry about being kept out of the loop that he nearly didn’t go to Slughorn’s dinner party.

“He can stuff his party,” Albus said darkly into his pillow. Albus was stretched out on his stomach on his bed. Scorpius was trying to decide what color dress robes he wanted to wear. “I’m not leaving this bed until my parents start telling me things. It isn’t fair! All of this has to do with me, too! I’m the one who got nearly murdered! I’m the one who still can’t walk or even get a nosebleed without special stuff to keep me from bleeding out! My body’s rubbish for the rest of my life! I should be kept up to date! It’s wrong! It’s _evil!_ ”

Scorpius—who had been listening to this same spiel for the past half-hour—ignored Albus. He lifted up two sets of dress robes.

“Grey or blue?”

Albus rolled over onto his side long enough to look Scorpius’s way.

“Blue!” Albus snapped. He turned back onto his stomach. “All day, every day I have to deal with what that—” Albus called Halloran something particularly vulgar. Scorpius lifted his eyebrows in surprise, mildly impressed. “—did to me, and my bloody family is keeping secrets from me, and treating me like I’m a sodding two year old whose not even toilet trained yet!”

Scorpius sighed. He walked over to Albus’s bed, opened his trunk, and began shifting through items. He pulled out his two sets of dress robes. He chose the green. He walked over and sat down beside Albus’s legs. He patted his bum.

“Up. Come on. Your pity party ends now, Albus Potter! I need to see fancy robes, fancy smiles, fancy attitudes.”

“ _No_.”

“I’ll tickle you.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m going to do it!”

“No!”

Scorpius threw his body down on top of Albus’s. He stuck his hands beneath his stomach and began tickling messily at his ribs. Albus squirmed from underneath him, angry laughter muffled into the pillow, and for a moment, due to their intimate positioning, Scorpius forgot what he was trying to do in the first place…

“Doesn’t seem like you’re actually planning on going to this party,” he heard Flirty Albus snicker. He had the nerve to shift in a very _deliberate_ manner from beneath Scorpius.

“I’ll still go the party. Just might be late and a bit…distracted,” Scorpius responded. He nudged Albus as he tried his distraction technique again. “Stop! We’re—going—to—the—party!”

There was a pause.

“Or we could stay here,” Albus mumbled into the pillow. “Think of it, Scorpius…us…cozy bed…snogging…”

“We can have those things _after the party_!”

“Ugh!”

It took another half hour—mainly because they got a bit derailed—but finally Albus was dressed in his dress robes. He crossed his arms. He looked delightfully grumpy with his messy hair, flushed cheeks, and bright eyes. The green had been a perfect choice; Scorpius took a moment to pat himself on the back.

“I’m not happy about it.”

“I know. I can only hope that you’ll at least _try_ to let yourself feel a bit of enjoyment.”

“Yeah—I’m not promising anything.”

* * *

“There you are,” Rose greeted. She grabbed both their arms and yanked them over to the side. “I heard the Slytherins talking. They said my mum was here?”

“She was,” Scorpius nodded. “She showed up at the Quidditch pitch during tryouts.”

Rose frowned. “She didn’t visit me or Hugo.”

“I think it’s something really important,” Albus told her. “The second my mum saw them, she canceled tryouts.”

Rose crossed her arms over her plum dress robes. “And she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No, please,” Scorpius begged, “don’t get him going again…”

“No! She _didn’t_! Which is—rubbish, Rose! Rubbish! I’m the one—I limp and I gush blood like a fountain—but do they tell me anything?! _No_!”

“Well, we’ll just have to find out for ourselves, won’t we? Do you have the map and cloak on you?”

Albus frowned. “I have the map. Not the cloak. I had to give it back to James.”

“Damn. I’ll work on him,” Rose said, turning around to survey the crowd. She spotted James, clad in ruby robes. “Or…maybe not. He looks angry.”

Scorpius turned to look at him. He _did_ look angry; he was standing across from Evvie, his arms crossed tightly, his lips pursed into a line. Evvie looked upset. Nora appeared to be giving a speech.

“That’s actually better,” Albus realized. “If he knows something, we can get it out of him _easy_ if he’s angry. C’mon.”

They weaved their way through Slug Club members. Their path was blocked by Slughorn and Lily.

“Boys! Lily said you’d be here! How are you?” Slughorn asked.

Rose, Albus, and Scorpius exchanged dismayed looks. Lily locked eyes with Rose. For a few seconds, they seemed to be having a silent conversation. And then she pointed towards the door.

“Look, Professor, Grant is here again.”

Slughorn scowled.

“I don’t know what part of _uninvited_ he didn’t get…honestly, the gall to think he can associate himself with _you lot_ …I’ll be back, help yourselves to drinks before dinner begins…”

Slughorn walked over towards the intruder. Lily immediately grabbed onto Rose’s hand.

“What are we doing?” she asked, her face shining with excitement. The boldness of her neon yellow robes only served to highlight her exuberant appearance. “You look mischievous!”

“We need to get the cloak off James,” Rose whispered. “Can you do it?”

“Of course I can do it. I can do it less than a minute. But you’ll have to wait.”

“What? Why?”

Lily leaned forward, her voice lowering conspiratorially.

“James is _furious_ ,” she said.

They waited for more information. Lily didn’t offer anything else.

“Er…yeah, we kind of got that. Why? Did somebody say something crass to Nora again?” Albus asked.

“No, _apparently_ Ben was supposed to come here tonight, you know, _with_ Evvie, like a _date_ —but he never showed up.”

Scorpius frowned. He exchanged a disbelieving look with Albus.

“I don’t believe that,” Albus said immediately. “You mean he stood her up?”

“No way,” Scorpius agreed.

Lily shrugged. “He did. James said they got ready together, left together, and then Ben was supposed to go to the dungeon to meet Evvie, but he never showed up. Roxanne said she saw him heading back towards Gryffindor Tower.”

Scorpius glanced back over towards the group. All the Sevens were standing around James and Evvie now.

“What does this have to do with you taking the cloak?” Rose finally demanded.

“I’m good, Rose, but even I’m not _that_ good. I can’t pick his pocket with all those Prefects grouped around him. Not even if another Prefect tells me to.”

“Fine…I guess we’ll just have to wait until after the party. Then we can go to Harry and Ginny’s room and harass them for information.” Rose paused. “And…don’t tell anybody I told you to do that, okay? It _would_ look bad…with me being a Prefect and all…”

All the Sevens were preoccupied during dinner. They picked at their food, were insufficiently talkative for Slughorn’s tastes, and kept shooting each other sidelong glances. Slughorn looked like he was ready to confront them, but he never got the chance. The door opened.

“Dad!” Lily cried immediately.

Harry stepped in, waved, smiled tightly, and then sighed.

“Sorry, Horace. Mandatory wand checks. Queue up, please, everyone.”

“What?” Slughorn said. He was visibly insulted. “This group doesn’t _need_ to be checked; we know they haven’t done anything!”

Evvie and James were already out of their chairs. They tossed their napkins down onto their seats and hurried over to Harry. Scorpius watched curiously as they lowered their voices and began to whisper urgently. With every word, Harry’s brow furrowed more and more.

“Al,” he suddenly called. He beckoned him over. Albus grabbed onto Scorpius’s arm.

“C’mon,” he hissed.

Scorpius helped Albus over to Harry, James, and Evvie.

“Do you have the map?” Harry whispered.

Albus nodded. “Yes. Why?”

“I need to borrow it.”

Albus hesitated. And then he shook his head.

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Harry frowned. “Albus, we’re really pressed for time. I’ll explain everything after the party. But I need to do the wand checks and get back to McGonagall’s office. There was a disturbance in Diagon Alley today and while we’ve got no reason to believe it will spur anything here, we’re taking precautions. And…it turns out that Caden Rowle _was_ Imperiused. We want to make sure nobody else has been, too.”

“And something must have happened to Ben,” James added fiercely. “He was probably Imperiused, too! Give me the map, Albus.”

Albus hesitated. Evvie withdrew her wand. “Albus, please don’t make me take it by force,” she said.

“Evvie,” Harry scolded gently.

“He’s in my House, Professor, I’m only trying to rein him in,” she said impatiently.

It must’ve been the desperation in their eyes that got through Albus’s stubbornness. He sighed, reached into his robes, and pulled out the battered parchment. James took it, immediately went to press his wand to it, but then Harry stopped him.

“Sorry, have to do wand checks before anybody does anything else,” he whispered.

If looks could kill, Harry would’ve been dead again—for good this time.

Slughorn offered to do half the wands to speed the process up. Harry took over the queue without his family members in it; Scorpius wondered if he’d done that on purpose. Slughorn eyed the long list as Evvie reached the front.

“Evvie Wilson…cedar, unicorn tail, 9 ½ inches…inflexible—” a long swirl of images bloomed from the tip of the wand. Slughorn nodded lazily. “As I suspected, nothing to worry about.” He made a check on the parchment, sent Evvie along, and beckoned James forward. “James Potter, pear, unicorn tail, 11 inches, springy—yes, nothing but a load of Transfiguration spells…here you go, my boy…”

Scorpius walked forward. He held his wand out. He always felt nervous, even though he knew he had nothing to hide. Slughorn looked back at his parchment.

“Scorpius Malfoy…willow, dragon heartstring, 10 ½ inches…quite a few cleaning charms and silencing charms, everything all right?”

“Er…yeah?” Scorpius stammered. His face was on fire. He realized suddenly, with a sinking heart, just how suspicious that probably seemed. “Erm...dusty robes? Dusty, loud robes?”

To his surprise, Slughorn didn't press the matter any further. He made a check on his list, and as he did, Scorpius heard him murmuring ' _A friend of the Potters is a friend of mine'_. Scorpius gaped, stepped to the side, and waited as Slughorn began checking Albus’s wand. Scorpius noticed that James and Evvie were grouped nervously around the map. He wanted to walk over and see what they’d found, but he waited for Albus. As soon as he’d been given the all clear, Scorpius wrapped an arm around his waist and dragged him over to the Head Boy and Girl.

“What’d you find out?” Albus greeted.

They spared him a quick, distracted look. “It says he’s by Hagrid’s hut,” James admitted.

Harry joined them.

“Dad, we’re going to Hagrid’s hut,” James said. 

Harry frowned. “No, you two aren’t going outside. I’ll go check on Ben. McGonagall wants you two to organize the Prefects and start hallway patrols, just to be safe.”

“Fine,” James snapped. “But if you find Ben, and he’s just being a git, tell him I’m going to kill him.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed.

Albus and Scorpius reluctantly rejoined the party. All the Sevens present were Prefects, so James and Evvie ushered them (and the remaining Prefects) off, much to Slughorn’s displeasure. A quiet chill settled over the classroom a few minutes after they’d left.

“Getting a bit chilly, isn’t it?” Slughorn commented. He laughed awkwardly and looked around at the significantly smaller and quieter group. “Lily, how’s your potion coming along?”

Lily didn’t look eager to talk about it, which was odd in of itself. Scorpius didn’t know if it was the lack of laughter in the room, or perhaps the sudden chill, but he wasn’t feeling very good at all. His heart was heavy. He felt that painful, gaping emptiness in his chest that he’d felt in the months following his mum’s death. His mum…her hand going limp in his…he’d been reading to her…she hadn’t lived to hear the end of the book…why couldn’t he breathe? The air felt like solid ice, lodging in his throat and lungs. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way her eyes had gone empty?

Abruptly, the candles flickered and extinguished, sending the entire room into complete darkness. There were confused, panicked shouts and a bit of crashing around before people began murmuring _L_ _umos!_ Scorpius fumbled with his wand, feeling slower in his sadness and fear, and by the time he’d lit up his, he realized that he’d felt like this once before. Terror swelled within him.

“Dementors,” he whispered, so quietly that nobody heard him. People were talking loudly, guessing that it was a prank, blaming it on a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes product…

The sound of the first ragged groan made Scorpius sway on his feet. It knocked through his frozen, panicked state.

“ _Dementors_!” he yelled, and that got everybody’s attention.

“No!” Slughorn yelled, his voice taunt with fear, “Stop! Calm down! Listen to me! You can’t outrun—!”

It was too late. A group of students, terrified out of their wits, had thrown the classroom door open, clearly with the intention of legging it. But all they did was invite the terror in. At the sight of the towering, hooded figures, the students screamed and fell backwards onto the floor, staring up at the descending dementors in such horror that there was no chance of any of them producing a Patronus…none at all…and Scorpius wanted to…but his mum—all he could think about was his _mum_ …

“ _E-Expecto Patronum!”_ Slughorn cried, advancing on the dementors. A tiny wisp of white flowed from his wand.

Albus. Albus. Where was Albus? Scorpius was able to pull himself from his sadness enough to look around himself. His heartbeat was thundering in his head now. The icy air felt solid and choking. Where was Albus? Where had he gone?

“Albus!” he cried. He heard Slughorn try the Patronus Charm again. More wisps. Several of the still-standing students joined in. Wisps, wisps. Scorpius’s hand was shaking. He needed to find Albus, but the dementors were nearly on the students down, and he—

“ _Expecto Patronum_!” Slughorn cried again, and this time, a brilliant white mole flew from his wand and sped towards the dementors. They were shoved from the room, taking with them the majority of the frigid air and freezing panic. The students on the floor were crying. As soon as somebody relit the candles, Scorpius frantically scanned his eyes over the room.

“Albus?!” he cried again.

“Here,” he heard. Weakly. His heart plummeted again. He turned around towards the sound, spotted Albus leaning weakly against the table, and noticed the arm of his green robes was a damp brown, thanks to the blood seeping into the dyed fabric.

“Albus, my boy, what happened?!” Slughorn cried. Scorpius felt a sudden, strange urge to punch Slughorn. He pushed past him and made it to Albus’s side a second later. He thought he’d be too terrified to function, but something had shut off inside of him in a way that was actually beneficial. He knew he was terrified. He could hardly breathe. But all his panic felt, for a moment, suspended above him as he yanked Albus’s sleeve back. His eyes appraised the cut on his forearm. In the chaos after the candles went out, somebody must’ve broken a glass. There were shards all over the tabletop where Albus’s arms had been resting. Scorpius took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, “it’s okay…”

He reached confidently into his pockets for the vial.

“Why is he bleeding so much?! That’s a very shallow wound!” Slughorn said.

“Lifelong residual effect from the Dark Magic that—that…” a wave of nausea overtook Scorpius. He stumbled. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no…”

He turned his pockets out. He frantically patted underneath his robe, his clothes. His heart was hammering frantically now.

“No. It’s—I didn’t switch it over. I don’t have it! I don’t—we have to get him to—James! Where’s—”

But he was gone, sent off minutes before the dementors arrived to patrol the hallways. Scorpius’s eyes burned. The terror was creeping up his spine now, burrowing into his ears, wiping his brain clean of any and all rational thought.

“Lily,” Albus reminded him.

Scorpius had forgotten that she was still here. He glanced around; she was already hurrying their way, her bright hair in sharp contrast with her paled face.

“Lily, do you have the vial? The vial Victoire gave you?” Scorpius asked urgently.

Lily didn’t respond, but she immediately reached into her pockets, withdrawing handfuls of strange objects. A few rings she often wore on her fingers, quills, a galleon with a string attached to it, a battered journal the size of a palm that said _Ginny Weasley 1995_ on the front, a few joke shop items, handfuls of sherbet lemons, tissues, lipstick…a tiny, glass vial…

“Thank you, oh, _thank you_ ,” Scorpius was breathless with relief. He reached for the vial and uncapped it with shaking hands. Albus was horribly white-faced now. Scorpius sprinkled the powder along his small cut. Within a few seconds, the blood had clotted and a thin layer of skin formed over the wound. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d already bled enough to soak through nearly the entire left side of his robes. Scorpius’s hands shook as he pulled the bright green robes off Albus. He let them fall to the floor in a sodden puddle. The clothes beneath the robe were just as bad off, but they didn’t have time for that now. Slughorn was administering a Calming Draught to the students that’d nearly been kissed, to get them calm enough to leave the room. Lily and Scorpius locked eyes. Hers were hardened. Somehow, wordlessly, he understood her perfectly. They would not be waiting here.

She grabbed Albus’s right arm. He grabbed Albus’s left. They hoisted him upright and slung his arms over their shoulders.

“Where are we going?” Albus murmured.

“Hospital Wing. To find your parents,” Scorpius answered.

“We should…wait…”

“No way,” Lily said at once. “I’m not waiting around for that lot to calm down. More dementors could come at any moment and you look horrible. I need to do one thing and then we need to go.”

Scorpius waited impatiently as she dug that galleon with a string from her pocket. She hung it around her neck like a pendant and then reached for it, running her fingers along the edges of the coin.

“What are you doing?” Scorpius finally demanded.

“This is a special galleon. My mum gave it to me. I talk to my Luna through it. And I’m telling her what’s happening.”

“Is now the time for gossip?!”

“It’s not gossip! I’m telling her to get the rest of Dumbledore’s Army! Did you consider the fact that, in order for them to happen upon us tucked away in Slughorn’s office, that there must be hundreds of dementors swarming the castle?! Who knows if anybody has been able to get to the Floo! The professors are going to need more help than just the Aurors can give them! This is important! Be patient and shut up or go by yourself.”

Scorpius—taken aback and certainly not harboring any desire to make the journey with Lily—chose to shut up.

After she sent her message, they stumbled down the dark corridors with Albus. As they hurried along, Lily was chanting underneath her breath. For a moment, Scorpius thought she was _praying_ , but he realized it was really a recitation of all her best memories. It wasn’t a bad idea. He tried to do the same mentally, but he was so worried about Albus that he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Her chanting paid off. They stopped in their tracks near the staircase at the end of the sixth floor corridor. Horror and sadness soaked into Scorpius before he’d even seen the dementors. Lily didn’t let them have the advantage of a sudden attack.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_ she shrieked, loudly enough that a few portraits gasped and covered their ears. Her lion burst from her wand ( _“I did it….I DID IT! Go, Fleamont, go!”)_ and went tearing down the corridor.

“Hurry, hurry,” Lily was saying urgently. “I don’t think I can do it again with them close…come on!”

They basically dragged Albus down the hallway at a run, following closely after the lion as it sent the dementors back. Lily went back to chanting as soon as it dissipated. Scorpius tried to follow her example. _Dad and Mum and me sailing…Dad and Mum and me together…Albus sitting with me on the train…Albus coming back into existence in the Great Lake…Albus and I kissing over the summer…our lazy Sunday mornings…_

This time, when they came upon more, he was able to hold onto the memory of Albus’s grin well enough to send his sparrow spiraling towards the dementors’ faces.

“Take that!” Lily yelled. “Yes! You nasty, smelly—”

“SCORPIUS! ALBUS! LILY!”

Relief floored Scorpius, brilliant, perfect relief.

“ _Dad!”_ Scorpius yelled. “Dad, we’re here! Here!”

His dad followed the sound of his voice. He rounded a corner and bolted towards Scorpius. His hand was clenched tightly around his wand, and on his heels—Ginny.

“Albus! Lily! Scorpius! Thank Merlin, you—what’s this blood from?! What happened, Albus?!”

Scorpius collapsed weakly into his dad’s arms as Ginny fretted over Albus. It all seemed to hit him the moment his dad wrapped his arms around him; his legs began shaking and he felt liable to vomit.

“Dad, they’re everywhere, they came into the party, they—”

“He cut his arm, Mum, but it’s okay, we used the stuff Vic gave us, he’s okay but he lost a lot of blood and—”

Lily and Scorpius’s frantic, overlapping words weren’t doing them any good. Scorpius’s dad leaned back and nodded at him. His face was paler than his hair; it made the Malfoy locks look yellow-blond.  

“We can talk about what happened, but we’ve got to get to the Great Hall first. Almost everybody is there.”

“Did Luna get my message?!” Lily asked frantically, her hands gripping at Ginny’s arms. Ginny leaned forward and kissed Lily’s forehead. She pulled her into another strong hug.

“Yes—my clever girl, you have no _idea_ how crucial your timing was. Nearly every member arrived minutes after Luna did—and she came immediately. Flooed right into the kitchen’s fireplace. We were trying to get down there to contact somebody for help, but it was taking every single one of us to hold them back…”

Something horrible occurred to Scorpius. “James and Harry were out there!”

“Harry’s in the Great Hall. So is James. Almost every Prefect made it back, too.”

Scorpius noticed her eyes dropping to the floor, the slight quiver of her lips, the way she seemed to swallow words she couldn’t say. Albus didn’t miss it, either.

“What? Who isn’t back yet?” Albus demanded. It was the first thing he’d said. His voice was thin and quivering.

“We’ll talk about it there. We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey; she’s set up in the Great Hall, too. Draco, can you—?”

“Yes, as long as he doesn’t fight me on it.”

Albus seemed to realize what the plan was. He eyed Draco warily.

“No, I can walk—”

“You can’t and you won’t,” Ginny said sharply. “I won’t let you. Not even just for your sake—for your sister’s and Scorpius’s sake, too. You’ll slow them down. Is that what you want?”

Albus grimaced, but when Scorpius’s dad lifted him up, he didn’t do anything but reluctantly wrap his arms around his neck. He looked at Scorpius and glared, daring him to laugh, but Scorpius didn’t find it funny in the slightest.

They set off at a run, Ginny’s horse Patronus running ahead of them for the entire journey across the castle and down the six floors separating them from safety. Scorpius was certain that she’d be magically exhausted when they finally arrived, but arriving with their souls intact seemed to be the only real objective; both adults let out relieved gasps when the Great Hall came into view. Various adults were stationed outside of it—Aurors, some people that must’ve been volunteers from Hogsmeade, and many Dumbledore’s Army members. Scorpius made the mistake of looking back behind them. His blood ran cold. He couldn’t even count how many dementors there were. His eyes blurred.

“Get inside, get inside!” Harry shouted, his voice choked with panic. He ran forward, his stag Patronus taking over right as Ginny’s Patronus flickered off and died. He grabbed Ginny’s and Lily’s arms and pushed them through the door. He grabbed a handful of Scorpius’s dad’s robes and shoved him forward, too. Scorpius was yanked along by his dad’s hand.

“Watch it, Potter!” he heard his dad yell at Harry’s retreating back, “These are five hundred galleon robes!”

“ _Get Albus and Scorpius inside, Draco_!” Harry snarled. “And then get back out here! _Expecto Patronum_!”

The doors shut on the terrifying scene. Scorpius glanced around the Great Hall. All the tables had been pushed against the far wall. Hundreds of students were huddled together in small groups, bundled up in blankets, some crying and some chatting tersely. Cats were darting about, some chasing loose toads, and a few owls were hooting petulantly overhead…Bathilda and King…would the dementors have any interest in Pygmy Puffs? Scorpius’s eyes burned. He followed Draco over to Madam Pomfrey; she had students lying atop one of the tables with various vials and droppers littering the spaces around their supine bodies.

“What happened?!” she asked urgently.

Ginny _was_ quivering; Scorpius had been right to assume she’d pushed herself too far by maintaining her Patronus for so long under such dire conditions. “He’s lost a lot of blood. The bleeding’s stopped but he needs Blood Replenishing Potion—”

“Right away. Sara!”

The Hufflepuff Prefect, seventh year, and Sevens member hurried over. She had a white apron on. The pockets were bulging with various pieces of Healing equipment.

“Take Mr. Potter to the end. BRP, six droppers.”

Scorpius’s dad helped move Albus to the indicated place. Ginny made to follow, but had to sink down onto the bench a moment later; her legs appeared as weak as Albus’s were. Scorpius hesitated, concerned. She buried her face into shaking hands.

“Do Pygmy Puffs have souls?” Scorpius heard himself blurt. _Great_ , he thought, _back to your wonderful habit of babbling like an idiot under emotional pressure._ Ginny glanced up at him.

“I think they’ll be all right,” she reassured him weakly. She tried to stand and managed it, though she was gripping the edge of the table. “I need to go back out and help. Draco, we need to go back out there.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Mrs. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey scoffed. “Sit back down. Now. Drink this.”

“No, I _have_ to go back out, Harry and Luna and Neville and my brothers are out there, I’m going out—”

Scorpius hurried to the end of the table, leaving Ginny and Madam Pomfrey in a fierce argument. Albus was already looking better and he still had three droppers to go.

“Here,” Sara said. She tossed something to Scorpius. He took it by instinct. He held the apron up.

“Er…thanks?”

“James says you’re interested in Healing. We need help. Don’t argue or I’ll take points. Here—” she passed him the vial and dropper. “He needs three more. I’m going to check on the students at the other end; they’re in shock.”

Scorpius sat on the table beside Albus and took his hand. He gripped it and leaned over, doing as Sara instructed. Between each dropper-full, he scanned his eyes around the Great Hall, seeing without really processing. Rose, Roxanne, and Iset were in a far corner, practicing the Patronus Charm with loads of small, shaking first and second years…Lily, Aster, Hugo, and Emi were making what looked like a blanket fort beneath one of the tables, whispering quickly and grimly to each other all the while…James and Evvie were standing side by side at the Great Hall doors and James was eerily expressionless, except for his hands, which were locked into fists around his wand in a grip so tight that Scorpius expected the wand to snap in half…Clementine Clearwater and Louis were standing at the windows, peering out…Dean Thomas was pacing near them, his damp cheeks shining in the moonlight, his face one of aching horror and worry…Scorpius’s dad was leaning over Albus’s mum, murmuring back and forth with her as she shook…she nodded…he pointed his wand at her chest, twisted it in an odd circular motion, and a glittering red light enveloped Ginny…

The doors burst opened. Scorpius could hear panicked shouts from the Entrance Hall.

“Ginny—we need you!” Harry shouted. “Malfoy, get out here, what are you doing?! Dean—now!”

Scorpius’s dad glared in Harry’s direction. “I’m checking on _your_ family, you—!” he broke off and finished his sentence underneath his breath. Ginny must’ve been feeling better; she had the strength to lightly punch his arm in response to whatever word he’d used.

 “Scorp?”

The affectionate short form made Scorpius glance back automatically, surprised. Albus pointed at the dropper and Scorpius jumped, reaching to quickly fill it. He passed it back to Albus to take. Albus sat up afterwards. His eyes met Scorpius’s. Scorpius wondered how, in the midst of what felt very close to hell, he could still feel a jolt in his heart as Albus’s green eyes bore into his. 

“Told you,” Albus suddenly said.

Scorpius furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Told you we should’ve stayed in the dorm and snogged.”

He almost laughed, but then he saw his dad running back out to join the fight, and his laughter died before it made it past his lips. Between his dad putting himself in mortal danger, the cold fear permeating the Great Hall despite the many efforts to dispel it, and the fact that Scorpius still had no idea which Prefect hadn’t made it back—he felt world’s away from something as light as laughter.


	9. Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students at Hogwarts find themselves in the middle of a battle they never anticipated. James encounters a situation he's unequipped to handle. Lily struggles with one of her least preferred tasks-- apologizing. Draco and Hermione hatch up a plan that may very well hold off a war, while Ron and Harry attempt to overcome biases that threaten the peace they're trying to achieve.

He fell to the floor with a final cry. It all happened in the space between gasps: one minute the Auror was beneath a decaying black figure, and the next he was listlessly on his back, his eyes empty, his body eerily still. At least the fear in his eyes was gone.

Harry—like many others—had rushed forward as soon as the Auror had fallen back, but he—unlike the rest—didn’t stop even after the dementor completed its kiss. He scrounged for a bit of happiness and energy, enough to shoot even a wisp from his wand, but he couldn’t find it. He had known this Auror—Stein— since the young man was seventeen. He had watched him grow up. Watched him get married. He’d just had his first child in June. And now…

“ _No_!” Harry cried. His fury was senseless. He shot a weak, non-corporeal Patronus at the retreating dementor; the effort it pulled from him made him stagger. He struggled to produce another Patronus, but the ongoing emotional trauma from the thousands of dementors had worn him down. He ran at the dementor like he might be able to chase it off like a dog, blind in his rage. He’d turned away for one moment. One moment. And now…

“Harry! He’s gone!” the current Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Grey, quickly grasped Harry by the arm and yanked him back. “He’s gone, it’s over!”

Harry saw a flash of black from the corner of his eye; he snapped his head to the left and saw another group of dementors coming up from the opposite end of the hall, towards Ginny and Neville, and they both looked as exhausted as Harry felt. He felt terror creeping up his spine, and all at once, he realized that they were going to lose. They were outnumbered in the hundreds by creatures who didn’t tire. They had all stopped producing corporeal Patronuses several minutes ago. They were all in a bad way. Harry produced a wisp and then a flicker. His core muscles were quivering; he was so magically exhausted that it was draining every ounce of his physical stamina, too. Around him, wisps surrounded the occasional meek animal form. The dementors weren’t even close to retreating. Harry wanted to give up—he was tired, and all he could hear and see were the most terrible things (his parents dying, Sirius going through the veil, Fred’s dying smile, Remus’s body, Albus choking on blood). But he was able to dig up a brief flicker of James’s first laugh, Albus’s tiny hand in his, Lulu’s first words. Ginny’s smile on their wedding day. Laughing with Ron and Hermione at their kitchen table. It was enough to keep him moving forward. It was enough to produce a proper Patronus. But he didn’t know if it’d be enough to get them out of this mess.

They wouldn’t even last until the backup Aurors arrived at this rate. And if they couldn’t hold them off…there would be nothing between the horde and their children. Unless…

He didn’t give himself a chance to think it through, because from the moment the solution occurred to him, he knew it was their only chance. It would have to work. It would have to be okay. There was no other solution. He charged over towards Ginny and Neville. Luna got there before he did and shot off a wispy Patronus. It was only barely enough to hold the approaching group of dementors off. Harry could hear everybody yelling at him, frantically asking him what to do next, even Hermione and the _current_ Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Around him was a cacophony of confusion, panic, and ‘ _Harry! Harry!’._

“KEEP HOLDING THEM OFF! I HAVE A PLAN!” he shouted.

Hearing that he had a plan emboldened both Aurors and DA members alike, more than it probably should have. Harry desperately grasped onto Ginny’s arm and pulled.

“Come with me, I need you,” he said urgently, and without a moment’s pause, she took off in the direction he was indicating.

“What are we doing?” she demanded. Harry led her through the Great Hall doors. She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re trying to trick me into staying in here—”

“Do you remember who can produce a corporeal Patronus and who can’t? Out of my students?” he asked her. He’d spoken at length to her about his students’ progress. Every night before bed he bragged about who had mastered it, who had made progress, and who’d actually had the confidence to try the spell for the first time. He could only hope she’d been listening as intently as he felt she had been. After a confused moment of hesitation, Ginny nodded.

“Yeah, I remember. Why?”

He dropped his hand from her arm. “Grab as many as you can. I’ll grab as many as I can remember, too. Meet me back outside the Great Hall doors.”

“What?! Harry, McGonagall and Hermione specifically said the children aren’t to—”

“We don’t have another choice!” Harry yelled. It’d been louder than he intended. The groups of students around them fell silent. Harry saw James making his way towards them from the corner of his eye; his heart lurched, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and refocus his thoughts. “They’re overtaking us. I need you to trust me and have my back no matter what Hermione or McGonagall say. My students—they’re good. They’re capable. Many of them _can_ do this, they can help. Just a few more able-bodied wizards and witches and we can chase them far enough to give us time before the next Aurors arrive.”

James reached them. Harry turned to him immediately.

“James, get all your Sevens members who can produce Patronuses.”

“Did Nora—”

“No. She and Ben are still out there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I need you—no, James, listen, don’t do that, don’t shut down,” Harry reached forward and grabbed James’s shoulders. He gently shook him, because James was on brink of panic, his face paler than Harry had ever seen and his eyes wide with horror. “You have to help now or more people are going to die. Do you understand me?”

He’d known all along that his eldest child was strong, but watching him in that moment, as he slowly straightened his posture, rubbed the tears from his eyes, and grasped his wand, Harry felt another wave of pride and affection.

“Get your members who can do a Patronus. Meet Mum and me at the doors.”

Harry took off in a sprint around the Great Hall, his eyes scanning for any student who’d even once produced a Patronus. His daughter matched his stride. Harry’s heart sank.

“No,” he told her, before she could even ask.

“Yes!” she countered hotly. “ _I_ can do a brilliant Patronus! _I’m_ extremely powerful!”

“You’re thirteen!”

“Who cares?! I’m helping! You can’t stop me! You’ll be too busy to keep an eye on me—I’ll just sneak out anyway!”

He stopped walking abruptly. Lily crashed into his back. Harry turned around, reached down, and grasped her arms. He met her brown eyes seriously. As much as he wanted to yell at her, to make her sit guarded in the Great Hall until it was safe…he knew he couldn’t. _You have to breathe with them_. She would only rebel harder if he tried to keep her in here. She’d end up putting herself at _more_ risk. So Harry went against everything his brain and heart was telling him—and nodded.

“But Lily, you must stay behind me _at all times._ At _all times_! Understand?”

She nodded immediately. “Yes! Yes! Thank you, Dad! Thanks!”

As if he’d given her an amazing gift instead of permission to put her life at risk. Harry spared her a brief look of incredulous disbelief and then continued on, grabbing hands and tapping shoulders, until he’d amassed a group of ten students who could produce decent Patronuses. The only students missing were Albus and Scorpius, but Harry purposefully avoided them. Albus was still too weak and Draco would surely lose his mind if Scorpius joined.

They met Ginny and her group of eight at the Great Hall doors. James had gathered five more, not counting himself: Evvie, Louis, Bec Floyd, Clementine Clearwater, and Roxanne. Harry felt a brief stab of sadness to see James standing alone, without Nora. They could’ve used her, and not only because she could produce a strong Patronus, but also because Harry doubted that James would be much help with Nora gone. In that moment, everything was about surviving.

“Harry _, no_!” cried Hermione, as soon as they flooded into the Entrance Hall. She probably would’ve scolded him more severely had she not been struggling to maintain her Patronus.

“ _Lily_ , Harry? You brought _Lily_ out here?!” Ron demanded. And then: “ _Rose?!_ No! No, Rose, you are not allowed! Hermione! Hermione, tell our daughter she is _not allowed_!”

“A—bit— _busy—_ right now—Ron!” Hermione groaned. Ron did a double take and then rushed over to help her, momentarily forgetting his previous objections. Harry turned to face his students.

“On the count of three, I need you to do your best to produce a Patronus. Think about the happiest thing you can. Stay behind me at all times. If I say ‘go!’ you all have to go back into the Great Hall immediately, no matter what. Okay?”

The students’ heads bobbed. Most of them looked _terrified,_ but everybody stood their ground, even if their wand hands were quivering. Lily was peering forward intently; her eyes were locked on the dementors like predators lock in on prey. Roxanne had her arm around James. Rose was practicing the incantation underneath her breath; Ginny had stepped into the group and taken Rose’s free hand protectively, most likely due to Ron’s objections. Luna and Neville had quickly joined in with the students too—a particularly brilliant fourth year, who looked frightened out of her mind, grabbed onto Neville’s hand. Harry halfway expected McGonagall to walk over and forcibly shove the students back into the Great Hall, but everybody was too burdened to pay them much mind at all. The rest of the professors, the Aurors, and the DA members were engaged with dozens of dementors, shooting off weak Patronuses, just barely managing to keep them at bay. They didn’t have any time left.

“Okay…ready?” Harry said. The students nodded again. Harry faced forward and gripped his own wand tighter. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and pulled forth the memory of Ginny telling him that she was pregnant with James. He locked onto the joy he’d felt, that breathless wonder at the idea that he was going to have a _family,_ a family of his own, a home full of love, a home of _Potters…“_ One…two…three, now! _Expecto Patronum!”_

The same incantation was cried in dozens of different voices. In a rush of bright light, corporeal Patronuses bounded towards the dementors, in a display so strong it left Harry a bit stunned. Childish cries of ‘ _I did it!’_ and ‘ _Yes! Did you see that?!’_ punctuated the successful charms. The Entrance Hall was full of cheers as the Patronuses chased after the dementors, who were quickly overwhelmed by the brilliant figures. The Aurors, professors, and DA members sagged against the walls in relief as the additional Patronuses pushed the dementors from the Entrance Hall and out of the castle (finally).

“Back into the Great Hall! Hurry!” Harry ordered. He felt the first flash of warmth inside his chest since the dementors had invaded, and he beamed at his students. “Great job! Really great job!”

The majority of the students were chattering as they hurried back into the Great Hall. McGonagall and Grey—the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement—hurried over to Harry. Hermione and Ron were off to the side, their arms around Rose, who looked pleased as could be, and Hermione shot Harry a weak smile from above Rose’s head.

“The additional Aurors should be here at any moment,” Grey said. “It looks like the dementors were chased all the way down to the Forest edge.”

“Will they return?” McGonagall asked.

“Ordinarily, I’d say there’s not a chance. But I’ve never seen them act the way they have tonight, so anything is possible. Either way—another group of Aurors will be here to take over by the time they regroup.”

Harry let out an audible sigh of relief. He allowed himself to feel that relief in full for a brief moment. And then he remembered that they were far from done.

“Okay. Everybody here—Aurors, professors, DA members, everybody—should go inside the Great Hall and rest,” Harry said. The DA members hesitated. “Please,” Harry pressed. “We need people in there watching over the students.”

Grey nodded. “Right. Come on, you lot.”

He shuffled tiredly towards the Great Hall. Harry didn’t move to follow. Dean and Seamus hurried over to him immediately, as he’d known they would. James was not far behind them.

“Nora,” Dean said tightly. “We have to find her. Please.”

Harry was already withdrawing the Marauder’s Map. His hand was shaking with exhaustion as he pointed his wand at it and uttered: “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good”.

“Help me look,” he told Dean, Seamus, and James. Others were joining their group. Ginny, Evvie, Roxanne, Louis, Lily, Rose—soon there was hardly any room to see the map. They examined it in tense silence.

“I don’t see them,” Ginny finally said. She shook her head. “Nora or Ben.”

Dean made an odd sound—like the breath had been knocked from him. Harry’s throat narrowed. He forced himself to remain calm.

“Okay. All right. James?”

He looked up at his eldest. James was staring at the map, his eyes wide and damp, his hands clenched so tightly into fists that his nails had broken the skin of his palms. He was still scanning every inch of the worn parchment desperately, as if he halfway expected _Nora Thomas_ to appear in some obvious spot. Ginny reached over and gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“James,” she whispered.

He slowly tore his eyes from the map and looked to his mum. He’d never looked more vulnerable. He’d never looked younger.

“I…I’ve got to…” his entire body was quivering now. “I have to go. I have to go find her. Let me—go, Mum, let me go!”

He struggled against Ginny’s hold. She lowered her arm, but grabbed onto his hand, refusing to let him flee. 

“James, you can’t go out there alone, wait a moment and listen to us,” Ginny tried to say. “We don’t know where she is, there are dementors everywhere out there, you can’t go alone, we don’t even know if she’s still—”

Harry’s stomach churned. Ginny reached up and covered her mouth with her hand, but it was too late. The damage had been done. James wilted; he seemed to get smaller.

“I didn’t mean…” she whispered.

“She’s not,” James said hoarsely. He looked from Ginny, to Harry, to Dean, and back to Ginny. “She’s not. Okay? She’s not. SHE’S NOT DEAD! Stop looking at me like that! _She isn’t dead_!”

Ginny flinched. Her eyes were hazy behind a film of tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. James reached up and pulled at his face. His body twisted in frustration. When he began to tear at the already-bloody skin around his nails, Harry knew he’d have to do something immediately to keep James from acting out on his own.

“James, I need you to focus. You know her best. Where would she have gone?” Harry asked. James’s lips quivered.

“I don’t know,” he choked.

Harry pressed on. “Think hard. She went out near Hagrid’s Hut to get Ben right before the dementors came out of the Forest. Where would she have gone when she saw all those dementors heading towards Hogwarts?”

“She would’ve come here! To _me_ ,” James said, pained. “She would’ve found _me_.”

“Okay, well, maybe she…got lost,” Harry pressed weakly. But his heart was steadily sinking, because James was right. Harry had known Nora since she was eleven. She’d never been far from James’s side, and he’d never been far from hers. If she’d seen those dementors, the first place she would’ve gone would’ve been to James. Unless she couldn’t.

Dean left their group and paced just outside of it, his breaths coming in panicked gasps, his posture tense. Seamus’s nose was steadily running, probably from the pressure of withheld tears. A heavy silence shook the group to their cores.

“Is she? Is she…dead?” Lily suddenly whispered, as if the idea had only just seemed plausible to her. She looked up at all of them. Her brown eyes were widened with horror. “Daddy. Is Nora dead?”

That question did James in. Harry was surprised he’d made it this long without succumbing to tears, but then again, there had been no time to indulge their panic earlier. By the time they’d realized Nora and Ben hadn’t made it back inside the castle before the siege, they were under attack, and there hadn’t been an opportunity to even catch their breath, much less consider a rescue mission. And now it might’ve been too late.

James collapsed into Ginny’s arms, shaking and weeping, his bloody hands gripping tightly to her cloak. He’d picked at his cuticles so much during the time he’d been guarding the doors inside the Great Hall that his fingertips were already coated with both dried and fresh blood. Harry saw tears spill over Ginny’s eyelashes as she stroked their son’s hair.

“We don’t know that,” she whispered. “James, we don’t know that. If she’d been Kissed, her name would surely still be on the map, because her body would still be somewhere. Right, Harry?”

She said it in a tone that communicated clearly that there was only one answer he was supposed to give.

“Right,” he echoed. He hoped it sounded halfway convincing, but the truth was that he had no idea. It was possible the map considered somebody Kissed to be dead. He thought about checking it to see if the Auror who’d been Kissed was still on it (he’d been brought into the Great Hall),but he was afraid to know.

“I should’ve gone to her!” James said. He pulled out of Ginny’s arms and looked at Harry with haunted eyes. “I shouldn’t have listened to you and Mum! She could be gone and it’s _my fault_! I sent her out there to get Ben! I told her to go! I didn’t know! I didn’t know they would be out there! _I killed her! It’s my fault!”_

James was rapidly unraveling. The time spent around so many dementors had surely not helped. Harry handed the map to Louis and walked over to James. He set his hands atop James’s shoulders, his own eyes burning. He fought his tears back. He pulled James into a hug, one that James sank into immediately.

“It’s _not_ your fault,” Harry said fiercely. “No matter what happened—or happens. It is _not_ your fault. Do you understand me?”

“James,” Evvie called, firmly and a bit impatiently. James leaned back and looked at her. “Assume she couldn’t get inside—maybe the dementors cut them off before they could. Where would she have gone then? Concentrate. Where are some other places she’d think to go? Ben would try for here—” she pointed at a spot on the map “—but if the dementors were swarming the castle so much that they couldn’t get back inside, they couldn’t have gone there, either. Where else would Nora suggest?”

Evvie’s calm tone somehow broke through to James. He took a step back, reached up, and rubbed over his soaked eyes. “I-If she couldn’t get here…if they cut them off…she would’ve…” James lowered his hand and met Harry’s eyes suddenly, his widening. “Hogsmeade. Dad, Hogsmeade doesn’t show on the map! She could be in Hogsmeade and that’s why we can’t find her! Maybe even the Shrieking Shack, it’d be far enough away from the dementors but the passage keeps you close to Hogwarts, and we’ve made a room really nice because we go there all the time to—”

He broke off abruptly. His cheeks pinked slightly. He shot a cagey look towards Dean and Seamus from the corner of his eye.

“To…read,” he completely lamely.

Dean had rejoined their group. He spared James one small, annoyed look.

“We’ll talk about that _later_ ,” he said. He met Harry’s eyes. “I’m going. To check out this Shack.”

“I am, too,” Seamus added, to nobody’s surprise. His jaw was set. “To find my daughter.”

James wiped away the last of his tears. His sadness seemed to give way to fierce determination. “Me too.”

“James, I don’t want you out there—” Ginny wasn’t able to finish voicing her objections. James spun around with a retort ready and cut her off.

“I’m of age and this is _Nora_ , Mum! How could you ask me to sit here and wait?! How could you ask me to do that when she could be in trouble?! _You_ didn’t wait! During the Battle of Hogwarts, you didn’t wait like your parents told you to!”

Ginny slowly pursed her lips. She looked to Harry and met his eyes. His every instinct was screaming at him to hide his children away inside the Great Hall, where they’d be safe, but he knew that wasn’t the right solution right now. It’d be easier in the short term, but it’d cause more problems in the long term, because if he disregarded James’s terror and sadness, James would surely go off on his own. James would feel forced to do what Harry and his friends had had to do in their youth: bypass the adults, take matters into his own hands. And James was very much a Weasley-Potter; they’d never have any chance of talking him into sitting the action out, especially when it concerned the life of somebody he loved.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Lily said. She folded the map. “Let’s head out towards the Whomping Willow. Who else is coming along? Louis? Rose? Roxanne? Evvie—oh, probably a stupid question, of course you’re coming. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, you’re a given, right?”

“ _Lily_ ,” Ginny said, exasperated. “You’re not coming.”

Lily had switched tactics. Instead of arguing, she completely ignored Ginny.

“We should also get my Luna and Neville. I’ll go get them. Then we can organize our team,” she said. “Ideally Uncle Charlie and Teddy would be here, but we’ll do what we can with who we have.”

Ron scoffed, insulted. “Wow, thanks, Lil.”

Lily blinked innocently from behind her glasses. “Eh? For what? I’ll be back. Don’t you dare leave without me.” 

She set off towards the Great Hall doors.

“Er…to be clear, we’re _not_ waiting for her, right?” Ron said. “And Rose, don’t get any ideas, you’re not coming along.”

Rose scowled. “If Lily gets to go, I get to!”

“I don’t think Lily is coming,” Hermione said, shooting inquiring looks Ginny and Harry’s way. Harry and his wife met eyes and hesitated. Harry knew she was well aware that there wasn’t nearly enough manpower available within the Great Hall to keep Lily inside of it. If they left without her, and she wanted to follow (and she would), there would be no stopping her.

“I’m not sure we’ve got the time to keep her from joining us,” Ginny admitted. “It would take hours to talk her into remaining behind—if we ever really did. It’s lock her up or let her come along, and I don’t even think she’d remain if we locked her up. She’d find a way out and get herself into more trouble. Best to keep her in our sights.”

Hermione clearly disagreed. She pursed her lips tightly and seemed to be struggling to keep her ‘parenting advice’ to herself. Ginny narrowed her eyes in response, daring Hermione to say something. Hermione wisely chose to keep her criticisms to herself.

“Fine. Rose, back inside,” she ordered.

Rose gasped. “What?! _No!_ No, Mum! I’m a Prefect and a fifth year! If a naughty thirteen year old who steals dragons, disregards authority, and does Dark Magic for fun gets to go then _I_ —”

Harry felt his stomach roll.

“What?!” Ginny interrupted, alarmed. “Did you just say—”

“Dad! Mum!” Albus’s voice was one of the few things that could’ve pulled Harry’s attention away from Rose’s slip-up. He glanced towards the door. Albus was leaning weakly into Scorpius’s side. Draco was beside them, his mouth set in a tight line. “Where are you going? Lily said you’re going on a mission. I want to go.”

“Me too!” Scorpius added.

“No,” Draco said immediately. Scorpius sighed.

Harry exchanged one last, alarmed look with Ginny and then walked over to Albus.

“Albus, I need you to stay here,” he said.

Albus scowled. “Because I’m a cripple?”

Harry winced. “No. Because we need people here to keep everybody calm. You and Scorpius have seen more than all your classmates; you can help reassure them.”

“Dad, are you forgetting the fact that our classmates hate us?”

“From what I hear, you’re far from hated these days, Al,” Harry pointed out. “‘The Boy Who Survived’ is what they went with, right?”

Albus’s scowl only grew. Scorpius looked a bit disgruntled as well, which was an odd expression to see on somebody like Scorpius’s face.

“They aren’t letting me go either, but they’re letting _Lily_!” Rose exclaimed as she walked up to join them.

“You’re letting Lily?!” Albus cried, outraged.

Harry glanced impatiently at his wristwatch. He spotted Ginny doing the same. “Albus, I’m sorry, we don’t have the time to argue about this.”

“You’ll just have to make the time because _I—”_

“This isn’t about you—!”

Rose cut Harry off.

“It is so, Uncle Harry! We want to help! We _can_ help!”

“No! You can’t! Your parents said you can’t, Rose, and that’s final!” Harry boomed back. Albus parted his lips to argue, but Harry stopped him before he could. “And _your parents_ say you can’t, either! We need you to help us here, Albus! We’ve all got to help! Nora is missing and I’m not arguing with you for a moment longer!”

Rose opened her mouth to continue on, despite Harry’s stern words, but Scorpius interrupted her.

“Rose,” he said, his voice a bit _too_ light. “I forgot to tell you. Iset’s looking for you inside.”

Rose faltered. Harry looked between Rose and Scorpius as something passed between their locked eyes. And then, Rose nodded.

“Right, good luck. I’ll be inside,” she said, and to everybody’s amazement, she turned and walked willingly into the Great Hall.

“Er…did Rose just give up on an argument?” Ron asked. He walked over and stared at Scorpius. “How’d you do that? What’d you say to her to get her to do that?”

Scorpius shrugged. “Just told her that Iset was looking for her.”

Ron furrowed his brow. “Ee-zet? Who? What?”

“Iset Goyle.”

“Ee-zet _Goyle_?!” Ron looked between Albus and Scorpius, his eyes wide. “Who is he?!”

“She.”

“What?”

“ _We don’t have time for this_!” James yelled. “I’m going! I’m leaving _now_!”

He turned on his heel and immediately stalked towards the castle doors. Evvie followed after him.

“JAMES SIRIUS POTTER, YOU WAIT FOR YOUR DAD AND ME!” Ginny yelled.

George came out to retrieve Roxanne (she argued, but George said he needed her for help with a joke display, and she relented quickly). Louis was of age and insisted on joining them. Lily exited with Neville and Luna just in time, and as soon as she had, they all set off after James and Evvie. Harry shot one last apologetic look Albus’s way.

“Help us, do what we need you to do,” he told his son, and then he turned and hurried after James, with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione following after.

* * *

 

They split up to save time. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and Louis went to check the Room of Requirement (another place Nora and Ben frequented that wouldn’t show on the map), while Harry, Ginny, Evvie, James, Lily, Seamus, and Dean took on the Whomping Willow. They were deep in the Whomping Willow passage now, having made it past the dementors and the violent tree. They were winding towards the Shrieking Shack, and every step they took brought them farther from the dementors and closer to sanity. The difference in Harry’s mood from the way he’d felt surrounded by the dementors to now was astounding—even considering the anxiety he felt over Nora’s whereabouts. Everything felt _easier_ and simpler when he could actually think. When his mind wasn’t a horrible web of his worst memories. He realized now that it _was_ possible that Nora and Ben were okay. It had seemed like a pipe dream with the dementors crowded around him.

Dean and Seamus were leading the group, even though they had no idea where they were going. James was right behind them, alternating between anxiously checking the Marauder’s Map and obsessively picking more skin from his fingers. Harry couldn’t let himself consider what they would do if Nora really was gone, if she really had been Kissed; he knew that if they’d lost Nora, they’d lose James, too, and the thought of losing both was excruciating.

“Look! The opening is just ahead!” Lily said, and sure enough, Harry could see dim light flittering down into the earthy passage from the shack. “Dare me to go in first! Somebody dare me!”

“No,” Ginny snapped, “nobody’s going to dare you. Come back here and hold my hand so I know you won’t sneak off.”

“Aw,” Lily lamented. She sighed. 

James took off in a run—an impressive feat, considering they were all hunched over at the waist.

“NORA!” he shrieked. Harry winced. He didn’t particularly think that anybody dangerous would be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack, but he also didn’t think it was a great idea for James to scream and announce their presence at the top of his lungs, either.

Lily—who had doubled back and obediently taken Ginny’s hand—scowled.

“You never give your position away…doesn’t my brother know _anything_ …”

But it seemed that James knew more than they did. Because after a brief pause, they heard a familiar male voice yell back: “ _James?!”_ And then, Nora’s unmistakable voice, albeit taunt and pained: “ _I told you he would come! James! Ben and I are here!”_  

Evvie let out delighted cry. She slapped her palm over her mouth a moment afterwards, seemingly embarrassed. James ran even harder; his shoulders were scraping the top of the passageway now, hard enough that his dress robes tore and ripped and his skin surely was, too, but he hardly seemed to notice. 

“Nora! Ben! I’m here—I’m— _oof_ this opening gets smaller and smaller— _Nora_ , what happened?!”

His exuberant tone had taken on the sharpness of hysteria. He paused halfway through the opening, his posture tense with horror. Dean made it there next. He forcibly shoved James forward the rest of the way through the opening (Ginny inhaled sharply, annoyed) and crawled his way into the room.

“Nora, oh, no, Nora, what’s wrong?” Dean immediately cried. Harry’s heart sank. Lily and Seamus reached the opening at the same time, but Seamus pushed past her, to Lily’s annoyance.

“What’s wrong with her?! I can’t—see—move, Nora’s Other Dad!” Lily pushed fruitlessly at Seamus’s broad back, trying to squeeze past him and into the room. Seamus seemed frozen in horror. “ _Move_ _you Irish boulder!”_

“Mum!” James shoved at Seamus, pushing him over enough that he could stick his head out of the opening. “Mum, do you have the vial?! Albus’s vial. The one that Vic—”

Ginny brushed past Lily, shoved Seamus through the opening without hesitation, and then hurried up and into the room, her hands already searching through her robe pockets. Evvie slipped up into the room after Ginny; Harry heard Ben exclaim: _‘Evvie! All this way for me?’._

“What did she do to herself?” Ginny demanded.

“Splinched,” Harry heard Ben explain. “We made it to Hogsmeade. Panicked. Thought we’d apparate to one of our houses, Floo back to Hogwarts—we didn’t want to…well, James and Evvie and our friends were still there, we had to go back…but it went wrong. Apparating, I mean. As you can see—badly wrong. I carried her here.”

“Carried her? All this way?” Dean asked, stunned.

“Yeah, of course, I couldn’t leave her,” Ben said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. There was a muffled grunt. “James, mate, I love your love, but your love is suffocating me…hug gentler, please...”

“Oh,” James said thickly. “Sorry. I just—thank you, thank you, I’m sorry for telling you to shut up in third year, and I’m sorry for saying I’d kill you earlier.”

“You wanted to kill me?”

“I thought you’d stood Evvie up! After listening to you whine about wanting a date with her for nearly five years, yeah, I was going to kill you.”  

“ _Nora_!” Lily exclaimed, alarmed, as soon as she fully entered the room. “That’s from _splinching_?!”

“Yeah,” Nora said weakly, “actually hurts a lot more than they tell you it will in lessons…”

There was the sound of creaking bed springs, a kiss, and then:

“Don’t get up there!” Dean scolded. “Get off the bed, James! She’s injured, you’re jostling her!”

“I only want to hold her, Dean!” James snapped back. “She’s in pain!”

“I want him here! It’s fine!” Nora argued.

“Well,” Seamus said with a shaky laugh. “She can’t be feeling too bad if she’s arguing with you, Dean.” 

The entrance hole was finally cleared enough for Harry to hoist himself through it. He stopped in place as soon as he’d stepped up into the room above them. He’d expected blood, but not as much as he saw. Nora’s robes were drenched. Her shirt was pulled up, revealing a huge, gaping hole in her side, where flesh and muscle had once been. James was sitting behind her on the bed; she was leaning back against him, his hands stroking her pallid face, his wide eyes pinned on her wound. Ginny was sitting on the edge of the bed, appraising the wound, the vial that Victoire had given them for Albus held tightly in her hand.

“This may sting…” she warned. She uncorked the vial and tipped it, sprinkling a small amount of the powder into the hole. Nora inhaled sharply, flinched, and reached up, grasping onto James’s forearms tightly. Harry approached and kneeled at Ginny’s side. He watched nervously as new muscle and skin slowly began to web across the diameter of the hole, one thin layer at a time. Ginny sprinkled more on after that.

“It’ll probably take the entire bottle,” Harry realized with a wince. He looked back at Nora. She had her eyes screwed shut, her hands still locked around James’s arms. “Nora, Ben. Can you tell me what happened before the splinching? We heard that the dementors came from the Forbidden Forest. How many initially? What did they do? Were they sectioned off into smaller groups or in one big cluster? How did you make it to Hogsmeade?”

“There were so many,” Nora blurted. She shifted back closer to James. Her lips quivered. “Thousands, I think, I don’t know. They were all together. This giant…wall of them. We didn’t think we’d…” she trailed off with another hiss as Ginny poured more powder into her wound.

“Sorry,” Ginny whispered, grimacing along with Nora.

James seized Nora closer in a tight, protective hug as she flinched again. His face disappeared into her hair. Harry doubted they’d see his face again until time to leave; James was giving off waves of relief and fear so intense that everybody around them could surely feel it. Harry knew he could.

“I’m sorry,” James mumbled into Nora’s hair, “I never should’ve sent you off alone, I had no idea, I’m so sorry, I tried to go out to find you but they swarmed the school so quickly—”

“You did find me, remember?” Nora reminded him. She reached up and set her palm on his scalp. “Hi. I’m here.”

“ _Sooner_ , I meant to find you _sooner_.”

A pained silence settled over the room. The words being communicated through James and Nora’s hug were intimate enough to make everybody avert their eyes. Dean cleared his throat gruffly. Harry looked away, embarrassed.

“I think she probably forgives you, Jamie,” Lily said.

“What happened next?” Harry pressed.

“They headed up towards the castle immediately,” Ben said. Harry turned and looked at him. He was drinking something from a dusty teacup. Harry guessed it was firewhiskey from the bottle in Evvie’s hands—where had she gotten that? He actually looked around the room for the first time. James and Nora _had_ improved it; there were shelves groaning underneath the weight of dozens of glass jars, full of what looked like homemade sugar-free sweets, and various liquor bottles; another bookshelf full of books with well-loved spines; a table with a four foot stack of various games, magical and muggle alike. It was world’s away from the cold, depraved place it’d been during Harry’s school years.

“What were you _doing_ out there, Ben?” Evvie demanded suddenly. Harry could tell from the strain in her tone that she’d been dying to ask that question since they arrived. “You were supposed to meet me!”

Harry glanced to Ben. Ben had gone a bit pink in the face. He studiously avoided Evvie’s eyes and began patting at his dress robe pockets.

“I was at Hagrid’s…for these…” he produced a sad, crushed bouquet of electric purple flowers. Evvie stared for a beat and then lightly whacked his shoulder with the bottle of firewhiskey.

“You idiot! I said _no flowers_! I said no flowers and you nearly got yourself killed for some exotic mutant ones!”  

“But you said that _after_ I asked Hagrid to gather these for me, I couldn’t just…not pick them up! I chose them especially for you! So I waited at his hut for _ages_ …I kept knocking, I peered into the window, but he wasn’t there. I assumed he was still gathering them—they grow on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, you know, and sometimes Hagrid gets distracted with various woodland friends—and I didn’t realize how late it was getting until Nora ran up and told me I’d stood you up! Which, Evvie, I wasn’t trying to, I only wanted to do everything right, please can we redo it—”

“You almost lost your soul for some damn flowers. I’m pretty clear on the fact that you weren’t trying to stand me up,” she snapped. She looked more upset than Harry had ever seen her—including when she’d faced her boggart. Though Harry couldn’t tell whether she wanted to throttle Ben or cry on his shoulder.

“Oh, good,” Ben said, relieved. “Because I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I know. Just…carry on with the story,” she grumbled. Harry probably should’ve objected as she uncorked the firewhiskey bottle and took a swig, but he decided to look the other way instead. Ben took a deep breath.

“So we were at Hagrid’s and I told her why I was there and she pulled me over to the garden—Hagrid had left the flowers for me atop one of his barrels with a note, saying he had to go into the castle, so then Nora and I were going to head back to the party, but then the clouds…well, I guess they rolled in, because the moon disappeared, and even the stars did, and it was terribly cold and dark…”

“I knew it was dementors,” Nora said. Her voice was sounding a bit stronger now that her wound was nearly halfway healed; Ginny was still sprinkling powder into it, over and over again, as her flesh slowly rejoined and filled the gaping hole. “Because you told us all about them, Harry, and how they even turn the stars out.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile proudly. “Right, exactly. Brilliant.”

“So I went ahead and did the Patronus Charm—just in case, you know. And it’s a good thing I did, because right afterwards, so many came from the Forest. Thousands, like I said. I thought…you told us they couldn’t travel in groups that large, so at first I wasn’t sure…I thought maybe it was a trick or…”

“And _I_ didn’t care if it was a trick. I wanted to get the hell away from them,” Ben added. “They could’ve been some sort of new WWW prank and I’d still get the hell out of there. Well, we obviously started for the castle, but more came from the far side of the grounds and cut us off, it was creepy…”

“They’ll try to corner you. They’re very good at that,” Harry nodded.

“Nora’s Patronus had already taken off in the general direction of Hogsmeade, and we knew we couldn’t outrun them and get into the castle before they did, so we turned and followed after it in the path it’d made…”

“And they didn’t care,” Nora said. She met Harry’s eyes. Her dark ones were full of disbelief. “Harry, they ignored us completely. They didn’t care at all. They just kept moving towards Hogwarts. Near the end, my Patronus faded, and we were completely vulnerable with at least a dozen still surrounding us, and they kept moving. We made it to Hogsmeade, I tried—and failed—to apparate us out, and then we came here, because it was far away but still connected to the Hogwarts grounds and I wanted to go find James, but…” she gestured at her injured side. Harry nodded, his head spinning.

“Harry…where did they come from?” Ginny asked. “These dementors. Why are they traveling in such a massive group? Why are they _here_?”

It was the question everybody had been too afraid to ask all night. Harry included.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “And that’s what concerns me the most.”

Dementors that had organized themselves into one large unit. Dementors that ignored a potential ‘meal’ for the sake of a larger one. Dementors that forced their way into Hogwarts—a place they’d never been permitted to enter before—and immediately attacked. Had this happened during the Second Wizarding War, he could’ve believed that Voldemort had mobilized them, but he wasn’t sure he believed that any other wizard was capable of it. Dementors were inherently self-seeking. Everything they did was in the promise of a potential feeding. They had to have known that they wouldn’t succeed in Hogwarts—so why had they risked coming? Who had talked them into it? Rather—did _anybody_ talk them into it?

That question made the hair on the back of Harry’s neck rise, because at the core of himself, buried underneath everything, he was still a thirteen year old terrified out of his wits of dementors. And the thought that the dementors had become frustrated with a lack of food, had managed to organize themselves and plan an attack, was more troubling than the idea that another Dark Wizard was rising. A wizard he could defeat. The thought of taking one on didn’t frighten him anymore. But how was he meant to conquer thousands of dementors when killing them outright wasn’t an option? How was he meant to control them when they outnumbered wizards and witches—when all wizardkind could do was banish them away—when the very conditions that they breed best under were the conditions that they create?

“Luna says they didn’t find Nora and Ben in the Room of Requirement—obviously,” Lily said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts. She had the DA galleon in hand. “I’m going to tell her that we found them and that we’re going to go back to the Great Hall soon. Er…we _are_ going back soon, right?”

“Why? Are you scared of the Shrieking Shack?” James teased.

“No! No, I’m _not_! I just miss my friends, is all,” Lily snapped.

“Yes, we’re going back as soon as Nora’s side is healed enough to move her,” Harry said, hoping his interruption would keep an argument from forming. Thankfully, James looked back to Nora, and Lily turned back to her coin. Harry was readying himself to go double back down the passage, to make sure it was clear for their journey, when he saw Nora reach for Ginny’s hand from the corner of his eye.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny asked softly, quietly enough that only Harry and James could hear—Dean and Seamus were currently in an intense discussion off to the side.

Nora peered anxiously up at Ginny. Harry assumed she was concerned about their return journey. But her concerns were much different.

“Do you think I’ll still be able to have babies?”

 _Oh, Merlin_. It took every ounce of willpower for Harry to keep from rolling his eyes, and he only managed not to because he could tell Nora was genuinely upset and worried about it—and that she’d been intending on only Ginny hearing the question. Harry pretended he hadn’t heard a word and examined his wand. When he glanced sideways at his wife, Ginny looked a bit surprised, but she quickly recovered. She gave Nora’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to. This wound is above your ribs. Of all the things to worry about right now, Nora…”

“So that was a confident yes?” Nora pressed.

“I’m not a Healer, but yeah, I think it’s safe to say, confidently, that this shouldn’t impact that.”

“Good,” Nora said, relieved. She peered down at her wound, nearly mended now. The vial was empty, but the amount they’d had had done enough to get her from the Shrieking Shack to Madam Pomfrey safely. “I’m think I’m okay, then. We can go back to Hogwarts.”

Harry watched James fuss over Nora as they helped her to her feet, his heart a tangle of affection and disbelief. He wondered, as he often did, where he and Ginny had gone right—what had they done to make James so loving, open, and selfless? Harry probably didn’t deserve credit for it, but he couldn’t deny the pride he felt. Each of his children drove him mad in their own ways…James always seemed to be on the brink of recklessness and martyrdom, Albus was spectacular at cutting people off when he needed them most, and Lily’s power was potentially leading her astray—not to mention how incorrigible she was. But they were so good in their own ways, too. Ways that were—if possible—more visible in times like these than they ever were.

* * *

 

The journey back was quicker and easier than the journey there had been, because everybody was in much better spirits. James’s elk Patronus shone brighter than ever.

The new Aurors had arrived. Ginny, Dean, and Seamus ushered James, Nora, and Lily back into the Great Hall while Harry exchanged greetings with the Aurors.

“Any further attempts?” Harry asked.

“No, not yet. Quite a few fled deep into the Forest. But we estimate that there are around two hundred still roaming the grounds; difficult to tell for sure in the dark.”

Harry shook his head. “This is madness. Has Grey gone back to the Ministry?”

“He and the Minister are waiting to speak with you before they depart, sir.”

“Thanks. Er…have chocolate. Has anybody given you chocolate? Surely you’ve gotten chocolate,” he said.

A few Aurors sniggered. One withdrew a massive block of it in explanation. “We’ve got _plenty_ of chocolate. Your son and godson have been passing it out for the past hour.”

Harry beamed. His heart warmed. “Teddy? Teddy’s here? When did he get here?”

“A few Healers Floo’ed in. He came with Bill Weasley’s daughter. The Healers are…” the Auror trailed off. “Well, you know. Deciding what to do about Stein.”

Harry felt his stomach rock to his toes. He looked away. For a moment, all he could think was: _who told his wife? Who told his child? Do they know? Do they know that he’s suffered the worst fate of all?_

“His wife. Did somebody…” Harry trailed off. His voice was thicker than he would’ve liked.

“Yeah,” another Auror responded, his tone gentle. “She asked to speak to you…didn’t believe it at first. She’s waiting at St. Mungo’s; he’s going to be transferred there, might be as we speak.”

Selfishly, Harry was glad he hadn’t been there. What would he have said to her? What was there to say? He was feeling badly enough that he glanced around and out of one of the windows, to make sure the dementors weren’t swarming again. They weren’t.

He nodded at the Aurors. “Thanks. Everybody really needed the break…that’s sort of an understatement. We’ll switch off again in a bit.”

A few Aurors clapped his shoulder as he walked past. He ducked into the Great Hall, was assaulted by a wave of warmth and laughter, and then stopped in his tracks. For a foolish moment, he wondered if the door had been a portkey; the vision in front of him was far from the one he’d seen before he left. The students had been sickly looking, shivering, crying. Now, as Harry peered into the Great Hall, he saw groups of students laughing and chatting together. Every person—even the professors—had their own sleeping bag, which answered Harry’s unspoken question on whether or not they’d be leaving the Great Hall tonight. People were munching on chocolate bars or sipping what was surely hot chocolate (a few faculty members and seventh years looked like they might’ve had something a bit warmer than that, something of the firewhiskey variety). There was so much activity that Harry wasn’t sure where to look. George and Roxanne were orchestrating a firework display above everybody’s heads and taking custom requests; remaining Sevens members were talking animatedly to House Elves over trays of chocolate treats; Hagrid—taking up nearly an entire corner of the massive room himself—was nearly obscured underneath dozens of owls and cats who were eagerly taking treats from him and the surrounding students. Overwhelmed, Harry switched his focus towards finding his family. It only took him a few seconds to locate Lily’s fiery hair. She was stretched out across Aster and Emi’s laps, giggling so happily that it made the sinking feeling in Harry’s chest ease up. And, in the spaces surrounding her little group, the rest of his family: Ginny with her head tiredly on Neville’s shoulder and her feet in Luna’s lap; Albus and Scorpius leaning into each other while chatting to Draco; Ron, Rose, and Hugo consuming obscene amounts of chocolate as if racing each other. Harry scanned the rest of the room until he located James (who was with Victoire, Teddy, and Nora at the Healers’ table) and then he made his way towards his family, his terrible mood lightening with every step that drew him nearer.

Unfortunately, he never made it.

“Harry! There you are,” Hermione cried, appearing out of the crowd with no prior warning. She took Harry’s arm. “Grey and I have to get back to the Ministry. We need to speak with you.”

His heart began inching down again. “Right. Erm…” he pointed at the open sleeping bag beside Ginny’s, clearly meant to be his. “We can sit there?”

Hermione shook her head. “Too crowded, too noisy. The chamber.” Hermione pointed instead towards the door just behind the staff table, leading to the room he’d once—many, many years ago now—stood with Fleur Delacour, Cedric Diggory, and Viktor Krum. Harry nodded once. He shot one last longing look at his family, met Ginny’s inquiring eyes, and then gestured towards Hermione. _Ministry business_ , he mouthed. She nodded.

Grey was already waiting inside, a glass of mead in hand. He smiled thinly as Harry and Hermione entered. Harry shut the door softly behind them.

“Ah, Harry.” He finished off his mead and set the empty glass atop the fireplace mantel. Harry crossed over towards him and smiled weakly back. “The students?”

“Safe. They were hiding in Hogsmeade.”

“The first good news all night,” Grey admitted. His face fell. “I’m sure somebody told you about Stein? He’s been transported to St. Mungo’s. Dark Magic ward. He’ll be there the rest of his days.”

Harry looked down at the floor. He nodded.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I heard. His wife?”

“Inconsolable. Got sick all over herself at the sight of him.”

“Awful,” Harry heard himself say. As if that even came _close_ to encompassing the horror of that mental image. If it’d been him…or if it’d been Ginny…or any of their family…

“Harry, we need your thoughts on this,” Hermione interrupted. “What did Nora see when she was out there?”

Harry was glad to switch topics. He retold Nora and Ben’s story, briefed Hermione and Grey on all his thoughts on the matter thus far, and then accepted a glass of spiced mead from Grey. It wasn’t even close to his favorite, but it felt warm going down, and he’d begun to feel empty and cold again. He guessed the dementors were close by.

“I was wondering if it was something else,” Grey said. He met Harry’s eyes. “You know. Something more…personal.”

It didn’t take Harry long to catch on. “Against my family?”

“We spoke with Hermione’s daughter. She says you’d be hard-pressed to find a student who doesn’t know that James Potter is dating Nora Thomas. Or that Ben Wood is his best friend.”

Harry shook his head. “I do understand why you’d think that, I do, but nobody would want to hurt my son. He’s…well, he’s James.”

Grey arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t somebody use an Unforgivable on him a few weeks ago?”

Harry faltered. “Okay. Halloran Carrow’s friends might want to hurt him, but they’re not…Grey, they’re not capable of _this_!”

Grey looked skeptical.

“They’re just _kids_ ,” Harry tried again. “Hardly capable of commanding dementors like Voldemort did.”

“And you were just a kid when you completely changed our world and defeated the most powerful Dark wizard in history, so forgive me if I’m not reassured by that assessment.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that. Grey continued.

“These _kids_ have used Unforgivables on two of your sons—nearly killing one. They’ve hexed innumerable students, according to McGonagall. Somebody used the Imperius curse to nearly kill another—who happens to be your daughter’s best friend—and frame another—who happens to be your daughter’s boyfriend. I know things seem different when you’re inside of them, but from an outsider’s point of view…there are a lot of points of contact here, Harry. And then this? The two students who happened to be caught outside during this swarm are connected to your son? We have to consider the very real possibility that there are forces at work that we’re not aware of yet, forces that are directly targeting you and your family, forces that have shown they have no problem killing your children to get revenge on you.”

“If that’s true, Grey, then it’s true that these forces have the power to control thousands of dementors, and the battle has already been lost,” Hermione said softly.

“Not if they’re being controlled by somebody, somebody we can stop,” Grey argued. He inclined his head towards Harry. “Which is what Harry put well before. If the dementors are learning to organize themselves and plan ‘feasts’, we’re going to need a bigger Dark Magic ward in St. Mungo’s. If somebody out there is commanding them, we’ve got a fighting chance. It’s only a matter of figuring out who it is.”

“Or who _they_ are,” Harry corrected. “This isn’t one person. Not like before. This—whatever _this_ is—is comprised of many different people, possibly many different groups. I believe the students causing trouble here have information, but I don’t believe they are responsible for this attack, nor do I think they truly know what they’re involved with.” Harry hesitated. He almost refrained from saying it, but he knew he had to do what was best for the safety of their world, and not what was best for his children’s social circles. “Which Auror’s been in charge of shadowing Gregory Goyle?”

As he’d expected, Grey laughed heartily. “Goyle?! Nobody since you resigned. I put Lemink on Avery’s trail instead. When he came to work and reported that he’d had to rescue Goyle after he got his head stuck in the toilet, I knew it was a waste of manpower _.”_

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. She looked just as horrified as he did.

“I wish you’d followed the instructions I left,” Harry snapped. “I believe I _clearly_ outlined why we never phased out the Death Eater surveillances. Those surveillances are the reason we’ve caught most Dark uprisings before they’ve gathered any steam! Why didn’t you check with Hermione or even me before you decided to let Goyle go unchecked?”

Grey bristled. “Because I don’t have to check with you to do anything. _You_ resigned, need I remind you. At a bloody opportune moment, if you ask me.”

“What are you insinuating, Grey?” Hermione asked sharply. “I believe my memo adequately expressed how much truth—or, rather, lack thereof—that Skeeter had in her article a few weeks back.”

“I don’t believe a word Skeeter says, this isn’t about that,” Grey clarified. “This is about the fact that you two should trust my judgement—”

“I used to, but I’m second-guessing that now,” Harry retorted.

“Harry, you can’t possibly believe _Goyle_ is intelligent enough to pull something like this off?” Grey asked.

“Not alone, no. But we knew him in school, Grey. Hermione and I did. And if there’s one thing Goyle is really great at, it’s following orders.” Harry hesitated for one moment. “His daughter is in my son’s year. And I think she knows something.”

“About Goyle? About whoever is orchestrating all of these Dark acts—the murder of the ex-Auror, the Muggleborn attack in Diagon Alley, these dementors?”

“Possibly.”

“Then why isn’t she being interrogated?!”

“Because she’s a child! She’s an incredibly frightened child at that.”

Grey scoffed. “Everybody is frightened.”

“I don’t mean right now, because of the dementors. She’s terrified all the time. Whatever she knows—it’s really shaken her up. I’m working on it, all right? A child like that…pushing them or acting aggressively will only make them more withdrawn.”

“He’s right,” Hermione said. “McGonagall won’t allow you to interrogate an innocent child and neither will I.”

“How do we know she’s innocent?” Grey challenged.

“Harry knows because he teaches her,” Hermione shot back. “Besides—my daughter is friends with her and my daughter would never be friends with anybody who follows Death Eater ideals.”

“I had no idea Rose was a Dark Magic detector.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I forbid you from involving yourself or anybody in your department with the children at this school unless I say otherwise. But you should, at this point, begin organizing observation for Goyle.” Grey parted his lips, as if to argue. Hermione cut him off. “And, incidentally, you _do_ have to answer to me, Grey.”

There was a tense pause. Grey took another sip of his mead and then nodded once.

“Fine. But something needs to be done about the students here—even if it’s not by my department. What does McGonagall have planned? How is the faculty addressing these acts of violence?”

“Messily,” Hermione said. She shot a quick look Harry’s way. “Sorry, Harry, but it’s true.”

“No, you’re right,” he acquiesced. “It’s been difficult, because we very rarely know _who_ cast the curses. We’re up to two wand checks a day, but it hasn’t helped much. We’ve put special passwords on every dorm in every Common Room. We’ve got Prefects doing double the patrols. The students are incorrigible because they genuinely believe Rita Skeeter’s lies. They genuinely believe that they’re doing the right thing, that they’re acting for a noble cause, that the Death Eaters weren’t all bad or whatever. It’s a disaster. They think the history books lied. They think I lied. They think our entire government is a lie. And they feel sorry for the Death Eaters and their families, of all people.”

“If it were politically correct, I’d say expel the lot of them. All of them. Anybody with any connections to past Death Eaters. Chuck them out.”

Harry scowled.

“I’m glad you _aren’t_ saying that, Grey, because that would be terribly insensitive and unhelpful,” Hermione said. “That’s not the solution. I…well, I had an idea. One that I worked on alongside McGonagall. You might not like it at first, but hear me out…”

She trailed off, leaving Grey and Harry waiting.

“What?” Harry finally demanded. He hated when she did this.

“Well…they’ve romanticized the Death Eaters, right? They think they were wronged, persecuted, mistreated, whatever. They’ve got it in their heads that our history has embellished their wrongdoings. What we really need is an ex-Death Eater to be on school grounds to set them right. McGonagall suggested weekly school gatherings in the Great Hall where this person could answer questions and be candid about their experiences. Somebody here to represent the other side of things, somebody to help guide these students, somebody they might trust.”

“Where are you going to find a Death Eater willing to do that?” Grey snorted.

Harry was a few steps ahead of him. “Good luck getting Draco to agree to that, Hermione.”

“It was really easy to get him to agree, actually. He was already begging McGonagall to let him stay here until the tensions died down, for his son’s sake. He didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of talking about his past, but after we spoke I think he realized that he’s got the opportunity to really help. Had quite a few suggestions that were actually...brilliant. And I truly believe that we’re on the cusp of war right now. How we respond now is going to dictate what happens. If we ignore this or continue fighting it the same ways we have, war is inevitable. But if we step up now…it’s not too late. I think we could quell this. But it’s going to take extreme cooperation, communication, and planning.”

“And it will take consistent eyes on _everybody_ linked to the Dark Arts,” Harry added.

Hermione nodded. “Right.”

Grey arched an eyebrow. “Is that including the Malfoys?”

Hermione didn’t miss a beat. “Of course. I hope you aren’t implying that I would play fast and loose with security due to family matters. Harry is here—Malfoy will be watched.”

Harry wanted to object, but Hermione had stepped over onto his foot with eye-watering pressure. He pursed his lips and nodded.

“As will Goyle and everyone else,” Grey promised. “Harry, are you coming back to the Ministry with us?”

“Oh, er…” _do I have to?_ Harry glanced at Hermione. She gave her head a small shake. He felt relief flood his body as he glanced back to Grey. “No, I’m going to stay here, you know, to help.”

Grey nodded, said his goodbyes, and made his way to the Floo set up in the kitchens. Hermione moved towards the door.

“I’m going to go see if Ginny wants to come with us to put out something on this in the _Evening Prophet_ …”

“Not a chance,” Harry admitted. “To put it in Ginny’s words: ‘if the Editor and I were married, I’d be sleeping on the sofa, and he’d be sleeping in the broom shed.’”

Hermione grimaced. “Which means I get to deal with other people at the _Prophet_. Brilliant.”

Harry certainly didn’t envy her job.

* * *

 

People were quieter when Harry exited back into the Great Hall. Judging by the exceptional darkness outside of the windows, the dementors were wandering closer than preferred. Harry made his way over to his family’s corner.

“Dad!” Lily celebrated. She moved over to sit beside him as he lowered onto his designated sleeping bag. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she curled up against him. He kissed the top of her head, mildly taken aback by her affection.  

“What’s wrong, Lulu?” he asked, concerned. “The dementors? It’s okay. They’ll get pushed further back any moment now and you’ll feel better.”

Her eyes flickered Ginny’s way. And it was then that Harry noticed the steely way Ginny was looking at Lily. Her lips were pursed into a tight line. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Her tired eyes were glaring. Not good.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked immediately.

But Ginny wasn’t just angry. She was _furious_. He realized that when her nose gave a slight twitch and her lips quivered once right afterwards. She couldn’t seem to contain her anger long enough to respond; in fact, when she clenched her fingers around her wand, it gave off accidental sparks.

“What did you do, Lily?” Harry demanded. He leaned to the side and peered down at Lily. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with cross tears from behind her glasses.

“Mum is unfairly angry!” she said.

It had been a mistake. Ginny’s face turned tomato red.

“ _Unfairly angry?!”_ she shrieked. James and Nora paused their nearby conversation. Scorpius jumped, alarmed. Rose and Iset Goyle looked over their shoulders, concerned. “ _UNFAIRLY_?! Harry! _Harry_!”

“…yes?”

“Our daughter used an Unforgivable Curse!” she hissed, loudly enough that Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but quietly enough that nobody outside of their family seemed to hear.

“ _What_?!” Harry breathed. He dropped his arm from Lily’s shoulders. She was actively fighting back tears now. “No. No, that’s—a mistake. Lulu—Lily would never. Lily, what is your mum talking about?”

“And what’s worse—” Ginny continued through clenched teeth. “She let _that boy_ use one on _her_! She let Caden Rowle use the Imperius on her! She let a boy _take over her mind_! She let him _control her_!”

“Mummy, it wasn’t like that!”

“IT WAS EXACTLY LIKE THAT!” Ginny thundered. Lily gave an audible sob at her furious tone. Harry looked between them, stunned and in disbelief.

“What…how did you find this out? Lily?”

“I-I was t-telling J-James why I didn’t believe Caden when he s-said he d-didn’t do it,” Lily sobbed, “and I d-d-didn’t believe him at first, because w-we’d been p-practicing the Imperius earlier! And it s-s-seemed too tidy and c-convenient of an e-excuse!”

Harry recoiled.

“No, Daddy, listen! We were p-practicing throwing it off! We were t-training!”

“ _Training_?” Harry demanded. His skin was crawling. “You call doing an Unforgivable Curse _training_?”

“I a-am really good at it…at casting it and throwing it off!”

“Is that supposed to make me _feel better_?!” Harry cried. Lily buried her face into her hands. “I’m supposed to not mind that you’re doing Dark Magic because you’re _good at it_?!”

“I wasn’t hurting a-anybody!”

“You could’ve hurt yourself! Do you have any idea the sorts of things the Imperius Curse is used for?! Do you have any idea the sorts of things I saw people do to other people while under them—especially women?!”

It was clear she hadn’t considered that.

“Caden wouldn’t—”

“You have no idea what that boy would or wouldn’t do,” Harry snapped coldly. “You gave him the permission to invade your mind! Your mum is right!”

“Oh, I _knew_ you’d take her side! I _knew you would_!” Lily cried furiously.

“You’re damn right I’m taking her side! Your mum’s been here reliving the worst memories of her life all night to keep you and your siblings and your friends safe and you go and _willingly_ subject yourself to a similar violation?!”

Lily’s sadness was quickly giving way to rage. She angrily threw her chocolate bar from her lap. It spun across their gathering and smacked Teddy in the gut.

“WHEN WILL WE STOP BEING PUNISHED FOR THE THINGS THAT YOU AND MUM WENT THROUGH?!” Lily shrieked. “IT’S NOT THE SAME! I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S NOT THE SAME!”

Their side of the Great Hall fell silent. Harry felt his face warm in embarrassment as everybody curiously looked their way. He had to take deep breaths to keep from screaming back at her, to keep from saying something he’d regret. The words were in his mind, quick and cruel: _When will you stop acting like a foolish thirteen-year-old and listen to me and your mother?! When will you stop making our lives more difficult in your quest to be rebellious?! When will you consider somebody other than yourself for more than a conversation at a time?!_

He was so close to the brink that he’d been on that horrible day all those years ago, that day that he’d said those awful things to Albus. He pressed his palm over his lips to create a physical barrier. He looked away. _Don’t say it. You don’t mean it the way it would sound. Don’t speak out of anger…don’t do it…_

“You’ll never stop dealing with the consequences of what we went through,” he said. He clenched his shaking fists. “Because it’s part of us, and it’s part of you, too, whether you like it or not, because _you_ are part of us. And I don’t give a _damn_ how you rationalize it! I don’t care how in control you think that you are! If I ever— _ever—_ here of you letting somebody— _especially a boy—_ put the Imperius on you again, for _whatever_ reason, I’ll file the charges against that person myself.”

Lily gestured angrily. “You—you’re _not even in charge of that anymore!_ You’re a professor! _”_

It tripped Harry up for a moment. “Yeah?! Well—well—I’ll quit this job, get my old job back, and then I’ll arrest them and quit again! Don’t challenge me, Lily Luna Potter! There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe! Nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you—even if you don’t want to be protected!”

James had been snuggled up with Nora in his sleeping bag, but at that, he sat up and looked their way. He grinned.

“Aw, that’s sweet, Dad,” James said. “You love your daughter. It’s heartwarming. Like puppies and firewhiskey.” 

Harry faltered. “What? No. I mean—yes, obviously I love her, but I’m not being _sweet,_ I’m being firm, I’m scolding her. This is me—furiously scolding!”

James blinked. “Mum was scarier; you sort of lost your momentum there, Dad. 6.5.”

“6.5?!” Harry demanded. And then he remembered that, in the grand scheme of things, James’s score shouldn’t really matter. He turned back to Lily. “Lily.”

She met his eyes reluctantly.

“I understand what you were trying to do…at least, I think I do. But you cannot put yourself at risk like that. The Unforgivables are unforgiveable for a reason.”

“I wasn’t letting everybody put it on me, Dad…”

“You let a random classmate, a random boy who—from what Albus tells me—is rough with you already.”

Lily scoffed. She turned and glowered at Albus, but he hardly seemed to notice; he was snuggled with Scorpius.

“Caden is not rough with me! Whatever Albus saw, we were just joking around!” she argued. She cautiously looked Ginny’s way. “Mum. I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to…” she trailed off, frustrated, a bit embarrassed. Lily had never been good at apologies. “Mum…I’m…well…I think I’m really powerful and…I think I’m very strong. And it drives me mad sometimes because I could be so much better. But nobody will let me try. And I’m…sorry. For being…”

“Reckless with the life I gave you?” Ginny supplied coolly.

“…Yeah.”

Ginny stood. Her mouth was still set in a line, but she extended a hand towards Lily.

“Come talk with me?” she requested.

Lily nodded and sank her hand in Ginny’s. Despite the hurt feelings and frustration, Lily leaned against Ginny as they walked slowly towards the chamber, and Ginny wrapped her arm around her tightly in turn. Harry let out a heavy sigh, lowered his glasses, and tiredly rubbed over his eyes.

“Kids!” he heard James comment. “Every bit as maddening as they are loveable, right?”

“Jamie,” Harry said, his head still bowed, face still in his hands. “ _You’re_ my kid.”

“And I’m sure I’m equal parts maddening and loveable.”

“Just loveable, actually,” Nora said sweetly.

“You and my dad can agree to disagree.”

Harry laughed despite himself. He shook his head fondly in James and Nora’s direction, grabbed a block of chocolate from the platter set in the midst of their group, and then slid over towards Albus and Scorpius. He and Albus shared an identical tired smile. He had to take a few deep breaths to push away his residual anger at Lily, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be fair to take that out on Albus. He took a bite of his chocolate and waited until he felt semi-calm.

“How are things?” he asked Albus. “I heard you were passing chocolate out today while we were gone.”

Albus nodded. “Yeah—Teddy and Madam Pomfrey said it was best. Scorpius was doing loads of Healing stuff. He mended this girl’s broken pinky!”

“Yeah?” Harry said, impressed. He nodded at Scorpius. “Nice.”

“It’s actually a lot easier than you’d think,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Looked pretty complicated to me,” Albus said. There was a hint of pride in his voice. He grinned at his boyfriend. Scorpius smiled back, and for a moment, Harry thought they were just going to grin at each other with lovesick eyes for the rest of the night. He was glancing over towards Rose and Ron, preparing to join their conversation, but then Albus glanced back over at Harry. He shifted to face him. “Dad, do you know where they came from? Or what they’re doing here? The rumor is that there’s another Voldemort…”

“No,” Harry reassured him. “I don’t know much yet, but I know there’s not another Voldemort. It’s possible there’s a group…but it’s also possible the dementors have been starving for far too long, sensed the excitement of hundreds and hundreds of school children, and couldn’t contain themselves. They made a similar mistake once, during my third year…swarmed onto the Quidditch Pitch.”

“But I thought they only traveled in small groups?” Scorpius asked. “Our book said that. You said it twice, too.”

Harry laughed. “Well, I suppose I’m glad to know at least somebody is listening to my lectures. Yes, that’s what we thought. But…well, no matter what, what happened here tonight changes things. Either they’ve learned how to group together for a common purpose on their own—which is bad—or there’s a group out there with enough leverage to convince them to do what they did—which is also bad.”

Albus frowned. “But that’s…Dad, if the dementors have learned they can band together and attack us…if they’ve decided they don’t want to live in the wilderness and search for food, that they’d rather come to us and take it…and if we can’t really _kill_ them, only run them off temporarily…and there’s _got_ to be more dementors than wizards and witches…” Albus’s eyes were wide.

Harry felt a strong surge of pride. He looked at Albus, a bit surprised.

“Exactly,” he said. He didn’t think many children Albus’s age would’ve realized that that scenario was far more frightening than the ‘another Voldemort’ scenario.

“If there was another Wizard like Voldemort, we’d know how to stop them, but how can we stop the dementors if they start organizing themselves?” Albus demanded. “I mean…you’d have to…I dunno, create special dementor squads or something. They’d have to set off in groups and drive the dementors so far away from civilization that it would take ages for them to get back…that or assign units to each community to ward them off, but that would be costly in every way…”

Harry blinked. “Right. Have you actually been doing your reading for my class, Al?”

“What? No, definitely not, it’s really boring.”

“It’s not _boring_ ,” Scorpius argued. “It’s nearly as interesting as _A History of Magic!”_

Albus shot Scorpius a sideways look. “Yeah…I’ll agree to that, Scorpius.”

Scorpius elbowed him and grinned.

Harry appraised his son for a moment and felt as if he were looking into a mirror. “Al…you know, and maybe don’t tell your mum I said this until all of this is over and she’s less sore on the topic of you kids tangling with Dark magic, but I think you’d actually make a really brilliant Auror. The instincts are there, I think.”

Albus flushed. He looked pleased for a moment, but he quickly rearranged his expression. “I can’t be an Auror, Dad, I’m hardly even a wizard…”

“Rubbish,” Harry shot back patiently. He shrugged. “Just an observation. Personally, as your dad, I’d rather see you perusing something safe like, I dunno, broomstick making.”

“I could see that,” Scorpius hissed towards Albus. “Auror, not broomstick making, I mean. You and your need for adventure…”

“I don’t _need_ adventure, adventure just tends to follow me, and you can’t exactly ignore it,” Albus scoffed.

“You _could_ , but you _don’t_ , because you’ve got this obsession with _doing the right thing_ ,” Scorpius hissed back. He put a finger into the air. “‘Let’s go back in time, Scorpius, to save my dad’s classmate who died years before I was even a thought’, ‘Let’s trail my sister and her boyfriend for weeks to make sure he’s not a Death Eater’, ‘Let’s publically call Death Eater sympathizers idiots because they insulted my family’, ‘Let’s—’”

“Okay, you know, I think I’ve got it,” Albus interrupted.

Harry laughed. Albus and Scorpius glanced at him questioningly. Harry knew Albus probably wouldn’t have wanted to know the real reason behind his laughter (the realization of just how similar Albus really was to Harry at the core of himself).

“Er…sorry. I was…thinking about…something funny,” he lied. He caught a flash of red from the corner of his eye. “Oh, look, Mum and Lily are coming back.”

“Good, looks like they’ve stopped fighting,” Albus said. Ginny and Lily _did_ look to be getting along better; they were talking softly, their posture relaxed and warm. “Lily’s lucky Mum didn’t murder her, honestly. I’ve _never_ seen Mum that angry before…”

“I have!” James piped up. Albus scoffed.

“Yeah? When?”

“When I was seven years old and I stole Dad’s broom and tried to fly to the Burrow with Lily.”

A look of dawning horror crossed over Albus’s face. “Oh _yeah_! I’d forgotten about that…”

Harry could still, to this day, recall the absolutely primal terror that’d overtaken his entire mind and body at the words ‘ _James and Lily are missing’_. James was right; Ginny had _never_ been that furious, she’d yelled for about ten minutes straight (after she’d finished hugging a newly-recovered James tightly, of course). Lulu had been three years old at the time and had been all for the impromptu trip to the Burrow to bring Gran her birthday gift; Albus had been at work with Harry that day and had missed most of it, though he got to spend the afternoon in Hermione’s office until they’d recovered his siblings (from the roof of a Muggle house considerably far from the Burrow).

Ginny and Lily sank back down beside Harry. Harry looked inquiringly at Ginny and she nodded once to communicate that everything was okay. Harry exhaled in relief. He knew the matter wasn’t over for good—they would certainly end up having many conversations with Lily about this over the next couple of weeks—but for now, in their current situation which was already wrought with tension, Harry very much wanted to move on from it.

“Everything okay?” Ron asked, sliding over to join their small huddle.

“Yeah,” Ginny said. She looked at Lily. Lily sighed.

“I am only allowed to hone my magical skills in legal ways,” she told her uncle, in a dead sort of voice.

“Sounds fair,” Ron nodded. “Lily, you’re only thirteen, you know. There will be loads of time to ‘train’, if that’s what you want to do! Blimey, I think you’ve already gone above and beyond for your age already, so maybe you could take a break ‘til you hit fourteen.”

Lily smiled. “Really? You think so?”

Ron leaned forward and tapped Lily’s nose. She giggled.

“You’re the youngest in the entire school who can produce a Patronus. That should tell you something.”

Lily sat up straighter. “Yeah,” she said. “My Patronus _is_ rather good.”

“It’s great! So maybe take a few months off, you know, have a nice butterbeer, get your toenails done, eat an entire pie, focus on beating every other House at Quidditch…that sort of thing! A break! You deserve it; you’ve been working hard, with the dragon stealing, Magic-training stuff.”

On the surface, Harry felt that was horrible advice for his daughter, who already had a difficult time accepting that laws and rules applied to her. But it seemed to be exactly the sort of thing Lily wanted to hear. She nodded immediately.

“That makes sense, Uncle Ron. You’re right. I do deserve it.”

“Right! A lovely break!”

“Yes! I’ll stop training against the Dark Arts and focus on my ex-Death Eater club instead! Oh, and continue on my dragon studies. And my potion—I’ll have more time for my potion! And I’ve been working on a countercurse for—”

“No—wait…no, Lily, I was actually thinking more like, you know, _normal_ things…knitting for house elves or playing Wizard Chess or obsessing over Quidditch…” Ron interrupted.

“Way to go, Ron,” Harry muttered, partially amused. “You’ve talked her out of one thing by telling her to spend more time on other dangerous things.”

“Ex-Death Eater club? Lily Luna…explain?” Ginny sighed. “Do I even want to know?”

“I want a club where the kids of ex-Death Eaters can talk about what’s making them so angry! I feel like they could all use a long conversation and a hug and perhaps a slap to the face, depending on how ridiculously dramatic they are.”

Harry, Ginny, and Ron exchanged vaguely amused looks.

“We’ll talk about this more later,” Ginny said. “I’ve had an idea…a student publication of sorts…perhaps we could merge our ideas together, Lulu. Work as a team?”

Lily leapt at the idea. “Yes! A Potter Ladies alliance! Fighting against misinformation, prejudice, violence, and bad hats!”

“Yeah! Wait—what was that bit about hats?”

“I hate them. They ruin hair.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Lily shrugged. “I dunno, we’re fighting against things we hate. And I hate hats.”

“You’re lucky Hogwarts made the pointed hats optional. And don’t let your Luna hear you saying that,” Ginny snorted, glancing over to where Luna, Hannah, and Neville were trying to soothe some hysterical first years. “She’s Queen of Hats.”

“Only Luna can get away with it,” Lily explained. “She can get away with anything, ‘cause she’s Luna.”

Harry thought it actually made quite a lot of sense. Albus leaned over Scorpius to hiss towards James.

“Lily only hates hats because of us,” he snickered. “All those times we scared her to death with Uncle George’s Headless Hats.”

“That is _not_ true!” Lily said. “Lies! You tell lies!”

Albus and James succumbed to teasing laughter that caused Lily to—once again—fling chocolate squares like they were missiles.

* * *

 

Hermione returned well into the night. A few smaller groups of dementors had gotten too close to Hogwarts for comfort, requiring the remaining DA members to take over to give the Aurors a chance for some sleep. Hermione brought more Aurors with her (the first wave of them, who’d had time to go home and rest up). DA members switched out with the returned Aurors and fled back into the Great Hall, exhausted and gloomy.

“If I never have to see another dementor again, it’ll be too soon,” Lee Jordan said darkly.

“I can’t even joke,” George said numbly. “Like—look! Look at that. Look at my niece, buddying up with Gregory Goyle’s child. Ordinarily, I’d be all over that. But nope—nothing.”

Harry went to look in the direction George was pointing, but his vision was obscured by Cho. She looked as worn-down as the rest of them.

“I’ve been thinking about the Battle of Hogwarts,” she told Harry. “All those awful things…and Cedric…though, I suppose you’ve been thinking of similar things…”

Considering how emotionally wrought they all were, Harry wasn’t surprised by the waves of indignation coming off Ginny. She took his hand—a bit possessively—and offered Cho a tight smile.

“I doubt he wants to talk about it,” she said. “Oh—Luna and Neville fell behind, let’s wait up for them…”

Harry gave her a knowing look as she pulled them to a halt, letting the other members—including Cho—carry on past them. They continued walking once they’d reached Neville and Luna.

“Bit jealous there?” Harry commented.

Ginny scowled. “Oh, she does it on purpose! She’s always done! She’s always trying to connect with you, to get you alone, and then there was that DA Christmas party right after Albus was born when she tried to stick her hands down your trousers!”

“She was trying to help me with the drink James spilled down my front.”

“Convenient story,” she muttered underneath her breath. “I don’t trust her. Never have, never will. How are you two holding up?” she directed her question to Neville and Luna. Neville gave a noncommittal shrug, his face ashen. Luna peered off intently, as if she were seeing something they weren’t.

“I’ve been thinking about all the people who died, especially the ones we saw die, some right in that Hall…” she said. She turned her wide eyes to them. “What have you two been thinking about?”

“Oh,” Harry said, taken aback as he always was. Luna was a permanent part of his life, but he still found himself baffled every now and then by her eccentricities and bluntness. “You know...stuff.”

Luna nodded sagely.

“The same sort of things that like to float in your mind before sleep. Lysander and Lorcan call them nightmare nougat.” She pointed suddenly towards the corner. “Oh, look, there’s Lily’s boy walking over, her Imperius boy. He cares a lot about what people think about him, doesn’t he? His hair is very styled.”

Harry snapped his head in the indicated direction. Sure enough, Caden Rowle was making his way over and around sleeping students, headed towards Lily and Aster, who were lying atop their combined sleeping bags and whispering back and forth.

“She does like well-groomed bad boys, doesn’t she?” he heard Luna comment to Ginny, but he was already speeding off in the direction of Lily, hoping to get there before Caden did.

He barely beat him; he’d only just sat down when Caden approached. If he was concerned about the sudden appearance of Lily’s dad, it didn’t show. He met Lily’s eyes as she glanced up at him, and for a moment, nobody said anything. Harry watched tensely. Would Lily apologize? Would Caden apologize? Should Harry _let_ either of them apologize—or should he ban Caden from ever getting near Lily again? That’s certainly what he wanted to do deep down. Even if he _wasn’t_ responsible for Aster’s accident, Harry still didn’t trust him.

“Hi,” Caden finally said.

“Hi,” Lily said back. She held out her mug of hot chocolate. “Want some hot chocolate?”

Caden nodded. “Alright.”

Harry watched in confusion as Caden sank down to sit between him and Lily. He took the offered mug and took a slow sip from it.

“Hello,” Harry said pointedly.

Caden glanced over at Harry.

“Oh, hey, Professor Potter,” he greeted. “Nice dementor fighting.”

“…Thanks.”

Caden turned back to Lily. “Did you hear that I was right and you were wrong?”

She scoffed. “I heard that you were forced to do what you did, but I was not wrong for standing by my friend.”

“You were excessively harsh and quick to throw me to the wolves.”

“By whose standards? You recovered fine.” Lily leaned over and set her palm against Caden’s chest. He jumped slightly at the contact. Harry narrowed his eyes. “See—your heart’s still beating, you recovered from the heartbreak.”

“ _Heartbreak_ ,” Caden scoffed. “Ha! As if.”

“Please, I bet you cried yourself to sleep for weeks.”

“No—I had plenty of other girls to distract me.”

“Oh,” Lily said, her face falling. She turned to Aster. “Aster, remind me to get a list of those poor girls so I can send them a fruit hamper.”

“Lily Potter, the girl who thinks the entire world is _about_ Lily Potter.”

“My entire world _is_ about Lily Potter,” Lily shot back. She pointed at her face. “Hello? I’m me—I live with me every day, everything I do involves me.”

“Straight from your own lips. I love it. Now how about you tell me, from your own lips, why you didn’t believe me?”

“Because we had only _just_ finished practicing that same spell! What were the odds that somebody just happened to cast the same illegal curse onto you right afterwards? But I’ve been thinking, Caden. And you know what I think? I think it’s that crooked little willy Zabini.”

“ _Lily_ ,” Harry scolded, “language!”

“I didn’t swear,” Lily said impatiently. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned back to Caden. “He knew we were practicing that! He was creeping around Aster and he heard us talking about it! I think he’s setting you up.”

Caden frowned. “Zabini’s my friend.”

“Zabini betrayed you.”

“ _You_ betrayed me. You would’ve let them expel me or charge me! You didn’t say a word in my defense! Zabini was right—you don’t care. Nobody in your family cares about us—the kids of Death Eaters.”

Lily pointed at him. “See? Zabini’s trying to turn you against us. And that’s just complete dragon shit, Caden. We love the nice kids of Death Eaters. We _love_ Scorpius! He’s one of our favorite blond family guests!”

“None of this changes the fact that you betrayed me.”  

Lily huffed. She gathered her hair and tossed it over her shoulders. She crossed her arms tightly afterwards.

“What did you expect me to do?! My brother almost died from Dark Magic! Aster could’ve been seriously injured, too! And I was upset, okay? I was sad. And I had evidence in front of me that you’d done it! It seemed highly unlikely that it’d been the Imperius then, because I didn’t remember that Zabini had overheard until later, and it _had_ to have been _somebody_ that knew I wouldn’t believe you because of that, somebody who was purposefully _trying_ to turn me against you—or, no. Turn _you_ against _me_.”

“Why would somebody want to turn us against each other?” Caden demanded.

“Maybe they don’t like the idea of ex-Death Eaters sympathizing with Potters. Maybe they want them to be a united front against the Potters. I think Scorpius should be very careful, and I’ve told him as much. I think he’s next. Iset Goyle would do well to watch her back, too.”

Caden didn’t say anything for a long moment. It seemed as if there was something he _wanted_ to say—he kept shooting furtive looks over his shoulder towards Harry—but he couldn’t seem to get them past his lips.

“Now will you stop being a baby so we can play Gobstones?” Lily said. “We can do trust exercises later and talk about our dead childhood pets or something. I promise the next time somebody accuses you of attempted murder, we’ll have tea before I decide whether or not you’re guilty.”

“Fine, but I’m going first.”

Lily feigned a cough that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _Baby’_.

“What was that?” Caden asked.

“Nothing at all,” Lily said.

“You are the most aggravating person I’ve ever met. Are you even a little bit sorry?”

Lily faltered. Her eyebrows lowered slightly. Harry realized she was fighting back some sort of emotion, so he looked away to make it easier for her.

“I _am_ sorry,” Lily finally whispered.

“A coveted Lily-Apology. Could you say that louder?” Caden asked. Harry could hear a grin in Caden’s voice.

“Don’t be a prat! I’m sorry for not trusting you, okay? I realize now that if you were going to try and kill my friends, you’d be much more personal about it than stunning somebody’s back.”

“Exactly,” Caden said. There was a pause, and then: “I see you smirking even if you’re looking in the other direction. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not. I’m…grimacing. Ouch—hey!”

Harry quickly looked back around, Lily’s cry of pain affecting him like a shock. But when he looked at her, she was giggling. Caden elbowed her again (though he was grinning). She elbowed him back just as hard. Harry cleared his throat loudly, angrily; they quickly turned their attention to the Gobstones set somebody had conjured. Harry was still staring sternly at the two—trying his hardest to figure out whether or not he should intervene—as Ginny, Luna, Neville, Hermione, and somebody unexpected joined them.

“Hello, Harry,” Professor Gantha greeted. The Divination professor sank down in the center of their gathering. She dropped a heavy crystal ball to the floor, a few chipped tea cups, and a box of Chocolate Cauldrons.

“Er…hi. What’s this?” he asked. Ginny sank down beside him. She shot a look at Caden and Lily and then met Harry’s eyes. He grimaced in response.

“I’ve had a bit too many Chocolate Cauldrons, these rampant emotions have stretched my Inner Eye, and I’m feeling generous. Who wants to discuss the future?”

That got nearly everybody’s attention, except for Rose, who snorted. She was sitting a bit back from their group with a few Gryffindor and Hufflepuff girls.

“What about the future?” Scorpius asked doubtfully. He and Albus had been reading quietly atop their sleeping bags, but Scorpius rolled over and faced the professor as she joined them.

“Whatever it is I see,” Professor Gantha replied. 

“Do my future!” Lily said excitedly. She practically climbed over Caden’s lap in her rush to sit in front of Professor Gantha. Caden probably should’ve looked a bit more annoyed about it than he did. Harry’s eye twitched.

“Radiant Lily Potter, the youngest of three,” Professor Gantha greeted warmly. Lily gave a regal looking wave in response. Professor Gantha peered down into her crystal ball. “I see great danger in your future.”

“Big surprise there,” Hermione commented lowly. “She’s a Potter. Probably the safest prediction to make.”

Harry heard Ginny yawn deeply, and a moment later, she leaned into his side. Harry wrapped an arm around her and looked down, concerned. Her eyelids had lowered. He’d taken a short nap before their previous shift, but she’d been involved in a conversation with Draco, Scorpius, Albus, and Rose, and had neglected to do the same. Their exceptionally long day and night seemed to finally be hitting her.

“But this is danger you choose—danger that is no match,” Professor Gantha continued. Lily grinned.

“Wicked! What else? Do I get a dragon? Do you see dragons?”

Professor Gantha peered back into her crystal ball. She was eerily silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then she looked around the circle, her eyes seeking out somebody.

“Albus Potter,” she said. Albus grimaced and shifted, so he was partially obscured by Scorpius, but Professor Gantha continued on despite his obvious discomfort. “A critical growth is in your future.”

“Oh, he’s finally going to get taller? How brilliant, Al!” James said.

“Shut your mouth, _Jamie-Baby_!” Albus sneered back.

Professor Gantha ignored them, her eyes still locked on her crystal ball. “I see a double path, a three-room flat, a moment of great joy…” she smiled suddenly. “Oh, a little one—Lyra, as bright as the constellation she’s named for—oh, bollocks! Forget I said that! _Damn._ ” She smacked herself on the forehead. “Not supposed to give specifics…”

Albus and Scorpius had turned two shades darker. They avidly avoided each other’s eyes. Harry glanced Draco’s way. It seemed, from his surprised look, that he had not missed the significance of the given name Professor Gantha had ‘accidentally’ admitted.

“An easy lie,” Hermione hissed to Ginny and Ron. “Everybody knows Albus is dating Scorpius and that Malfoys name their children as the Blacks did.”

“Still—a bit gutsy to assume that the two will stay together and somehow have a child though, right?” Ron hissed back. “She’s got nerve, even if she’s a fraud…”

“Of course she’s a fraud,” Hermione muttered back, “she teaches Divination.”

Ginny slid down and stretched out beside Harry, her head falling into his lap. He reached down and stroked her hair from her face. He continued pulling his fingers through it as she yawned. Her eyes drifted shut again.

“Nice to know we’ll have at least one grandchild,” she muttered sleepily. Harry leaned over and kissed her forehead in response.  

“What about me?” Lily pressed eagerly. “What other things have you seen about me?”

“I see great power—”

“Oh here we go…” Albus muttered. He gave a long, annoyed sigh.

“I see a labor of love, a baby girl—”

Lily’s face fell. She regarded Professor Gantha suspiciously. “No—maybe clean the surface of that crystal ball. I’m not having babies. I’m having dragons.”

Professor Gantha blinked at Lily. “Did I say you would raise a child? I don’t believe I did. Please don’t interrupt. I see fire, a _lot_ of fire, I see a powerful act of sacrifice befitting the woman you were named for—”

“Whoa! Hang on! So not only am I going to have babies instead of dragons, which is rubbish, but I’m going to _die_ for my not-dragon baby?!” Lily demanded. “I did not agree to any of this.”

“You’re hearing but you’re not listening,” Professor Gantha scolded. “You will outlive everyone.”

It did nothing to soothe Lily. Her eyes widened behind her glasses.

“ _Everyone_?!” she exclaimed, horrified. “I’m going to be _immortal_?! No!”

“Just what the world needs…” Caden Rowle muttered. Lily and Aster both smacked at his arms.

“Not _everyone_ , Ms. Potter, don’t get so dramatic. Everybody in your family,” Professor Gantha corrected.

Lily did not look comforted. Albus and James stopped snickering.

“The eldest Potter—”

“No, don’t want to know, don’t want to hear it, don’t want to worry about it at night,” James hurriedly said. “Thank you, though, Professor.”

She regarded him with a smile. “You’re sure?”

“ _Positive_.”

“You don’t want to know that you end up the Minister for Magic with twelve children?”

“ _Damn it, Professor Gantha_!” James yelled. He slapped his hands over his ears, pained. “I said I didn’t want to know!”

She laughed. “I’m only joking, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh,” he said, relieved.

She looked back at her crystal ball. “Or am I?” she asked, a knowing smirk in place.

“ _Arg_! This is why I didn’t continue with Divination—you tease me, it’s not kind, it’s not right!”

“I should be kinder to our future Minister, I suppose.”

“I’m done with this. Goodnight,” James grumbled, and with that, he crawled back down into his sleeping bag, pressed against Nora’s. She was already asleep.  He had only just disappeared underneath it when he reappeared. “Okay, but, what are our kids’ names? Where do we live where we can fit twelve kids? Do we have any pets—I’ve always wanted a dog. Does Nora get the position at Gringotts that she’s trying for?”

“I can’t predict on demand, James,” Professor Gantha said lightly. 

James groaned. He disappeared back inside his sleeping bag. Harry could tell he was going to obsess over this for weeks.

“Who’s next?” Professor Gantha asked, smiling broadly.

* * *

 

The fortune-telling party went on until other groups of students realized what was going on and begged Professor Gantha to come tell them _their_ futures. Harry’s family was not sad to see her go.

“I can’t believe she told me I’d gain fifty pounds from Muggle sweets!” Ron said. “I don’t eat that many!”

“You sort of do, Ron,” Hermione said.

“Oh, whose side are you on?! You’re supposed to hate Divination!”

“Just an observation. I still hate Divination.”

Ron huffed. “Though, you know, she made a point about our kids. I mean…that rubbish she said about ‘great light being drawn to dissipating darkness’ or whatever the hell it was? I mean, she was right about the ex-Death Eater kid stuff…Albus is dating a Malfoy…and Lily’s…whatever…with that Rowle boy. And, Hermione, did you know that our daughter is friends with Gregory Goyle’s daughter?! Look—look at that, right now! See?!”

Hermione looked where Ron was pointing, as did everybody else. Harry lifted his eyebrows in surprise. Rose and Iset were lying on their stomachs on the same sleeping bag, and while he’d never been a teenage girl before, he assumed it wasn’t typically platonic to read with your hand resting on your friend’s lower back. Rose hardly seemed to realize she was doing it, but she was.

“Er…” Hermione said, her eyes wide. Ron continued on, oblivious.

“I suppose, on the whole, it’s a good thing. It shows that my Rosie is very open and accepting. I mean—look at that. Such good friends with the Goyle girl. Offering friendship and not even judging her for having that baboon as a father.”

Iset let her head rest against Rose’s shoulder. Rose looked down at her and smiled softly. She whispered something, Iset smiled back and nodded, and Harry and Hermione exchanged a dubious look.

“I think it actually says something good about us and our world,” Ron continued. He looked back at Harry and Hermione. “Don’t you think? The fact that our children are creating such warm friendships and relationships with students they’d have every right to shun.”

“Yeah. Yep,” Harry agreed, struggling not to laugh. Rose tapped Iset’s nose and still Ron was oblivious. “Such warm…friendships.”

“Er…Ron,” Hermione began.

“Mate, I think we’re actually really great dads, you know that? We were worried. But we pulled through,” Ron said to Harry. He looked so proud that Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him that Rose almost certainly had romantic feelings for Gregory Goyle’s child.

“Yeah,” he repeated.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Ginny said groggily. She sat up from Harry’s lap and yawned. “You lot _do_ realize they fancy each other, right?”

Harry sighed. Hermione bit her lip. Ron’s smile gradually dropped.

“Wait. What do you mean _fancy_ each other? They fancy being each other’s friends?”

“Er…no, Ron,” Ginny said. “More along the lines of…I-think-you’re-adorable-and-want-to-kiss-you fancying.”

“But…” Ron laughed. “No, that’s not possible, because that’s Gregory Goyle’s child. _Goyle_. Goyle’s child!”

“Ugh, Merlin,” Ginny rose to her feet. “I’m getting something from the kitchens. Good luck with this, Harry. I’ll bring you some food back.”

Ron had resumed staring at Rose, as if trying to drill holes into the back of her head. When the girls teasingly knocked ankles and giggled, his face opened up with realization.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said.

“It’s not a problem,” Hermione said softly, soothingly. “Rose is a great judge of character, she knows what she’s doing, we have to give her the space to be who she is without limitations—”

“Of course. Of _course_. What’s next? Crabbe’ll be resurrected and have little baby Crabbes that Lily and Hugo will date?! I’m—I’m speechless. I don’t even know what to say. I’m not going to say anything. Malfoy and Goyle. With a Granger-Weasley and a Potter. Unbelievable.” Ron stood. “I need some air. Some icy dementor air. Excuse me.”

Hermione looked pleadingly at Harry as soon as Ron stalked off. Harry sighed and rose to his feet.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he reassured her.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Harry greeted Ron.

“She sent you after me, did she?”

“Yeah. I think she might love you, mate,” Harry joked.

Harry came to stand beside Ron in front of one of the windows in the Entrance Hall. Ron had his forehead pressed against the frosty glass. Harry took a deep breath and struggled with what to say. He wasn’t really sure what had really upset Ron, so he wasn’t sure how to help.

“It’s the difference between our generation and our children. They can believe that _those_ families are reformed. And I don’t think I could ever trust them with any certainty. How am I meant to be a good dad if I can’t even…” Ron trailed off. “Friends are one thing, you know? But…if she _dated_ her…fell in _love_ with her…and I know they’re young, but blimey, Harry, we were young once, too. All those bloody Muggle parenting books Hermione made us read—or, well, read and summarized for me. Part of being a good parent is, y’know…understanding that things change and not judging your kids based on the world you grew up in…but Harry…I dunno if I can do it. Rose is—” Ron broke off, clearly on the brink of sentimental tears. “My daughter. Well, you know what I mean.”

And Harry did know what he meant. He understood the frustration and concern racing through Ron as if he were him, because he’d been feeling something similar. Now that he understood where Ron was coming from, he felt a lot more at ease.

“Yeah, I know, Ron,” he said. “That’s how I feel about this Rowle kid that Lily fancies. Or—possibly fancies. Hard to tell with her. It’s how I felt for the first four years of Albus and Scorpius’s…friendship.”

“You’re okay with it now, though. Scorpius is always with you lot. He fits in and everything.”

“He does,” Harry agreed. He wrestled with the right words to explain why that was. “I think…once I stopped seeing him as a _Malfoy_ and saw him as _Scorpius_ …that made a difference. I know you’re worried about Rose…especially considering what’s going on right now with the kids of Death Eaters…but, well, I’m not worried about it. I’ve been teaching Iset Goyle all year. Neville’s been teaching her for her entire school career. She’s not one of them, Ron. In fact, I think she desperately needs help to get _away_ from them.” He hesitated. He hadn’t told anybody this, not even Ginny, but it seemed like the right moment to say it. “I think she asked for help in one of her essays. I think something’s going on at her house.”

Ron turned to face Harry. He frowned. “What’d she say?”

“Her essay was supposed to be about detection spells and Dark Magic laws. And it was…but she spent a lot of time talking about the ways that people could _hypothetically_ use Dark Magic to get around the laws and detections the Ministry uses. I asked her to come by my office. She never did. And her boggart turned into Goyle and he was saying _awful_ things…and she flinches, like she thinks somebody’s going to strike her…” he trailed off. He winced. “I’m not really making you feel any better about Rose getting involved with her, am I?”

“No!” Ron said, horrified. “Harry, you’ve got to tell somebody. McGonagall?”

“I haven’t yet. I’m worried about what he’ll do if it isn’t handled the right way. If he finds out she said something before we can get her removed from her home—if it requires that—I don’t know if he’d hurt her or not. It’s possible I’m overreacting. But my point, Ron, is that she _clearly_ doesn’t want anything to do with Dark Magic. She’s clearly refused involvement in it at her own expense. And I see why she’d want to be around Rose.”

“I’m not sure I do. Rose isn’t exactly…feeble.”

“I think that’s probably the point. Rose is fierce, you know? She’s brave and loving, like you and Hermione. She’s always made the people around her feel safe—remember when all the kids were little? All the toddlers wanted to be around Rosie.”

Ron grinned. “Mini Mumma Rosie!”

Harry laughed. “Those were the days.”

Ron’s grin turned into something softer. “The best. I don’t even know if I realized it then, but they were. They were the best.”

“Well,” Harry said. He clapped Ron’s shoulder. “This is the new best. And Hermione’s right. And you need to meet Iset Goyle and talk to Rose about it before you worry too much.”

Ron gave him a knowing look. “You know I’ve got to give you that same advice back, right?”

Harry grimaced. “Yeah, yeah…I know.”

He wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to get to know Caden Rowle or give him a chance, but he knew Ron was right.

Ron sighed. “Want to go to the kitchens and have a butterbeer? We can tell the wives our heart-to-heart took a while.”

“They won’t buy it. But yeah, let’s do it. I could use a break from the crowded Great Hall.”

“Me too,” Ron said. “Though let’s wait a moment to make sure my sister’s not down there anymore.”

They waited ten minutes and then set off for the kitchens.

“You know,” Harry said. “They’re wrong on almost everything—these kids sympathizing the Death Eaters—but…I don’t know, I guess they’ve got reason to be angry. Look how much effort it’s taking us to overcome our prejudices even for our children’s sakes. Do you think we made a mistake after the war? Should we have done more to bring the Death Eater’s families back into society?”

“Arg, Hermione’s been bothering me about this for _ages_ ,” Ron groaned. “I’ll tell you what I tell her: what we did back then was the right thing to do _back then_. We had to keep an eye on those families. The public was right to have that stigma! Because those same families aligned themselves with Voldemort during the First _and_ the Second Wizarding Wars. Why should we have trusted that they wouldn’t do it again if given the chance?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just never really gave much thought to the lives their children would have. Honestly…and I know it sounds horrible…I was only thinking about the lives we were giving our future children. Because the world we were creating was _better…_ I just never considered that it would only be better for the winning side. I assumed…stupidly, I guess…that what was better for one was better for all.”

“It’s still better—for both sides. Do you think those children would be better off if Voldemort had won? They might be more accepted by their peers, but they’d also get punished for spilling milk with the Cruciatus, or take up Muggle torturing as a hobby. We did some good in the world, Harry. We did. I know why you’re doubting it…the things Rita Skeeter is saying about us and my sister and Hermione…it’s awful. But she’s said awful things plenty of times and we’ve always pulled through it. We’ve always shown the public that we’re right. And we will again.” They came up to the fruit bowl portrait. Ron tickled the pear and pushed the door open. The wonderful smell of roasted chicken assaulted them. “ _Brilliant_ , I just realized I’m famished.”

Harry and Ron sat down with food and butterbeer, and by the time they were headed back towards the Entrance Hall, Harry was feeling a lot better.  

* * *

 

“Looks like she beat you to it,” Harry commented.

They stopped on the edge of the group. Hermione and Iset were in a quiet conversation with Rose listening in from Iset’s other side. Harry appraised Hermione.

“Does she like her? What do you think?”

“Hard to tell without hearing her tone, but I think she does,” Ron said, “which’ll make this even more annoying for me if I don’t. C’mon.”

“Did you boys have fun?” Ginny greeted. “Butterbeer and chatting?”

“Told you she’d know,” Harry said to Ron. He sat beside Ginny. “What did I miss?”

“James and Nora are still asleep, but they’ve somehow ended up in the same sleeping bag, and nobody knows when or how, and Dean is really angry,” she began. “Draco’s sleeping with his mouth open and looks…oddly adorable. Scorpius and Albus speak for themselves…” she pointed towards their middle child. Albus and Scorpius were in their own sleeping bags, but their bodies were fitted against each other’s, close even in sleep. “Lily and the Rowle boy got into an argument, he stormed over to the other side of the room, Lily called him a word that nearly got her mouth Scourgified, he came back over, and now they’re…that.” She pointed to the other side of their group. Lily was passed out with her head resting on Caden’s open book. He was carefully lifting pieces of her hair as he attempted to read around the blockage. “I was just about to go over and wake her, but I was curious to see just how long he’d go before he’d consider doing it. Interesting.”

“I guess,” Harry said shortly. And then he remembered that he was supposed to be giving Caden a chance. _Oh well, I’ll start tomorrow._

“James’s Sevens pals are mostly all asleep, but you know, I’ve been trying to keep an eye on them, to make sure they didn’t sneak out to try and play hero during the Auror shift changes, and I haven’t seen Ben for ages.”

Harry frowned. “What?” he looked around, concerned. “I need to find him, then.”

“Hmm…I wouldn’t worry. Evvie’s missing too. They came over here to eat with us when I got back from the kitchens. Turns out Ben produced a Patronus while he was out there.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. He grinned. “Seriously?! He didn’t tell me! That’s great! He’s been working on it all term!”

Ginny nodded. A smirk was forming on her face. “Yeah. And it turns out it shares the same form as another Sevens member’s Patronus. That was discovered during conversation and they’ve been ‘missing’ since.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, I see. Well—good. Let them. After what Ben’s been through…after what _all_ of them have been through, actually…they all deserve a bit of leniency.”

Ginny nodded her brother’s way. “I think Ron agrees with that, too. Look.”

Harry turned and glanced back at Ron. He grinned. Ron and Iset were clearly laughing together, albeit a bit hesitantly. Rose looked torn between humiliation and relief.

“I can’t wait to hear more about _that_ ,” Ginny commented. “These kids keep us all on our toes, don’t they?”

“That might be the understatement of the year, Gin.”


	10. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the dementors gone, everybody's focusing on a new mission. The adults are scrambling for information, Rose is guarding her heart, Lily is trying to find legal ways to grow, Draco is trying to keep the situation at Hogwarts from erupting-- and in the midst of all this planning, the only thing Scorpius and Albus really want is to be alone.

“Scorpius. Scorpius, wake up.”

Scorpius sat straight up with a ragged gasp. Around him, classmates were whispering, rising drowsily to their feet, and shuffling towards the Great Hall doors. Scorpius looked up into his dad’s eyes, his heart stuttering.

“Did they come back? The dementors? Are we being evacuated? Where’s Albus?” Scorpius looked around himself without waiting for his dad to answer, concern swelling inside of his chest, but he spotted Albus a moment later, standing tiredly beside Harry a few feet away.

“No, they’ve all been chased deep into the Forest. Everybody’s going back to their dorms,” his dad explained. He reached down and grabbed Scorpius’s arm. He tugged upwards. “Come along.”

“Come along? You’re coming to the dorm, too? Dad, I’m sorry, but my bed is too small, and I don’t think it will be comfortable—”

His exhausted, confused rambling was interrupted by his dad.

“No, I’m not staying in the Slytherin Dungeon, Scorpius. I’m escorting you and Albus to make sure you arrive safely.”

“Oh,” Scorpius said dumbly. He yawned deeply a moment later. He heard his dad give a light chuckle. He pulled on Scorpius’s arm again.

“Up we go, Scorpius.”

Scorpius stumbled half-blind wherever his dad pulled, his eyelids still heavy with exhaustion. Ginny might’ve hugged him—or it could’ve been Lily, Scorpius was too tired to focus correctly. Whoever it was had soft, floral-smelling hair. Albus leaned tiredly into Scorpius for support as they followed Draco down the crowded, sleep-soaked hallways.

“Do we have classes tomorrow?” Albus yawned.

“I’m not sure,” Draco said. “I’m sure the Prefects will let you know come morning.”

“But where are you going to sleep, Dad?” Scorpius wondered. He vaguely recalled his dad telling him he was going to stay at Hogwarts for a while, but in his drowsy state, he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t made it up. “Are you going home?”

“Quickly, to grab my things, feed the peacocks, pay the house elves. The caretaker here is setting up living quarters for me.”

_As long as it’s not in the Slytherin Dungeon,_ Scorpius thought. He yawned again afterwards and struggled not to stagger from Albus’s leaning weight. He was so tired he felt as if his feet were gliding over the stone floors. He couldn’t wait to get into bed.

He half-carried Albus down the Dungeon Corridor and down the next staircase, and it didn’t occur to him that Albus’s cane was missing until his dad was giving the password to the passage wall.

“Where’s your cane?” he asked.

Albus gave a small start; he’d begun slipping off to sleep, his head against Scorpius’s shoulder, as they waited for the passage to the Common Room to open.

“What?” he asked.

“Your cane.”

“Oh…dunno…it was…I think…Slug Club…”Albus trailed off. His eyelids fluttered shut again.

“‘ _Merlin’_ ,” Draco repeated, frustrated. He rapped hard on the stone wall. “Hello? That’s the password. Why aren’t you opening? Insolent piece of castle…Scorpius, you try, perhaps it’s because I’m an adult…”

“’Merlin’,” Scorpius tried hopefully.

Still nothing. Scorpius sagged underneath Albus’s weight. He was considering sleeping in the corridor when the sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. He saw his dad withdraw his wand on instinct. His dad straightened and stepped halfway in front of Scorpius and Albus.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he whispered. He directed his wand light down the corridor. “Who’s there? Announce yourself or I’ll stun. I’ll give you three seconds. Three, two—”

“Stunning my students, Draco?” Professor Slughorn demanded. He shuffled into view. He had already changed into his dressing gown. “I’ll have to ask you not to do that.”

Scorpius’s dad lowered his wand.

“I have to be cautious, Horace,” he replied. “Did the password change?”

“Ah, yes. I tried to catch you to inform you of the changes, but I got distracted by an unexpected…discovery…” he trailed off. “Well, as I was saying. Flitwick placed new protections on all four House entrances. You must now place your wand against the entrance after giving the password. It will automatically scan through your past one-hundred spells. You will be barred entrance if it detects an Unforgivable.”

Scorpius would’ve appreciated this new measure of security better if he weren’t slowly slipping down, thanks to the now-dozing Albus and his own exhaustion. He shuffled backwards, leaned against the wall, and let himself and Albus slide down. Albus snuggled closer, his face tucking away against Scorpius’s neck. The stone floor and walls were chilly, but Albus’s sleepy affection made him feel comfortable despite. He let own cheek fall against the top of Albus’s head with a soft smile.

“And then what happens? Doesn’t do much good if they’re not restrained, does it?”

“I am immediately notified, as are the Head Boy and Girl, McGonagall, and Harry. It records the wand, so even if the student flees, we’ll be able to quickly determine who it was. We’ve already caught four students and they’re not even all back to their dorms yet.”

“Who?” Draco demanded sharply.

“Ah, Draco, I’m afraid I am not permitted to share that information. Now, if you’ll just repeat the password, press your wand here, and that should do it. Assuming…well. Assuming you haven’t done any Dark magic recently?”

“Of course I haven’t,” Scorpius’s dad snapped. “‘Merlin’.”

Scorpius rose tiredly to his feet as the passage opened. He reached down and hoisted Albus up, who groaned and mumbled: “What? Where are we going?”

“Bed,” Scorpius said. “Lovely, lovely bed.”

“Oh, good,” Albus yawned.

Scorpius exchanged goodbyes with his dad at the passage opening and then they went their separate ways. Scorpius and Albus stepped into the Common Room. Scorpius didn’t pay mind to anything but getting to bed, but Albus stopped.

“Oi,” he muttered, his words still a bit slurred with exhaustion. Scorpius turned and followed Albus’s line of sight. On the other side of the Common Room, in front of the carved fireplace, Caden Rowle was perched on a leather armchair, directly across from Evvie. Evvie appeared to be lecturing him. He was staring over her head at a point on the wall behind her with a bored, haughty expression in place. Albus was scandalized. “Boy! Lily—Lily’s boy! What’s he doing there getting lectured?”

“Probably got caught by the new wand checks, didn’t he? Since he and Lily have been doing the Imperius Curse?” Scorpius replied. He paused. “Oh, that means Lily got caught, too. She won’t like that.”

He’d thought they were being quiet, but Evvie paused mid-scold and turned to look at them. Scorpius quickly pursed his lips.

“Continue up to your dorms,” she ordered. “The password for the fifth year dorms has been changed to ‘violets’.”

Albus seemed reluctant to obey. He was still staring at Caden with an expression of decided dislike.

“Did you know he used the Imperius on my thirteen-year-old sister?” Albus finally demanded.

Caden rolled his eyes. Evvie nodded curtly.

“Yes, I’m aware of the specifics. Bed.”

“Are you going to punish him?”

“I’m going to punish _you_ if you don’t get to bed!” she snapped. She pointed at the short stairway, her eyes narrowed warningly. Scorpius thought it best to listen to her; with her oddly disheveled hair and unyielding expression, he wasn’t sure challenging her was the right move. He tugged on Albus’s arm to communicate that, urging him forward.   

“You’re not my mum,” Albus muttered underneath his breath, but he shuffled forward anyway. Scorpius helped him walk the short distance to the fifth year dormitory door.

“Violets,” Albus snapped. The door clicked open, revealing occupied beds. Their dorm mates all appeared to be sleeping, most of them still in their robes and shoes, sprawled out atop the blankets. Scorpius and Albus tip-toed over towards their end of the dormitory. Scorpius immediately reached for King and Bathilda’s cage on his bedside table; thankfully, both were snoozing cozied up together. Scorpius let out a relieved breath, sighed, and then pushed a few treats in there for when they woke. 

Scorpius pried his shoes off and set them neatly beneath his bed, and when he glanced over at Albus, he saw he’d somehow already stripped down to his pants, clearly eager to be out of his dirty dress robes. Various family members had attempted to Scourgify all of Albus’s blood from them throughout the night, but the fabric had still retained the strange stiffness of dried blood that would only be fixed by a proper washing. Scorpius allowed himself a moment’s pause to study the slanting, green light against Albus’s bare skin, the endearing freckles spanning his shoulders and chest, the slight jut of his hip bones, the faint line of hair dipping beneath the waistband of—

_No_ , Scorpius scolded himself. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his feet, the back of his neck warming. He yanked one of his socks off. _No, no, not the time. Get a hold of yourself, Scorpius_.

Scorpius removed his other sock, his robes, his trousers and shirt beneath, and then he felt his mattress shake as Albus plopped down on it. Scorpius turned and glanced up at the top of the bed. Albus had already slipped beneath the covers. Scorpius beamed.

“Cuddle night!”

“Isn’t every night cuddle night?” Albus pointed out. “Even if we don’t plan it? I’ve got to talk to Madam Pomfrey about the sleep walking…”

His sentence trailed off as he let his eyelids fall closed. Scorpius rose and started towards his trunk, to pull a clean pair of pajamas from it, but Albus’s voice brought him to a pause.

“Or not,” he heard Albus say.

He glanced back at his boyfriend. “What?”

He assumed the statement was following up from Albus’s comment about seeing Pomfrey for his sleep walking. He assumed incorrectly.

“Or not pajamas,” Albus repeated. “Not for me. Pajamas.”

_What the…_

“Are you all right?” Scorpius questioned, concerned. “You’re not making any sense.”

Albus—clearly half-asleep now—patted Scorpius’s pillow weakly. “C’mon.”

Scorpius parted his lips to argue—“ _I’m not dressed!”_ —but Albus kept patting the pillow over and over, and Scorpius couldn’t help but think to the particularly nice snogging session they’d had before the party, and, well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the idea of being less-than-dressed in a bed with Albus, but did he _trust_ himself to be? That was another question entirely…

“ _Scorpius_ ,” Albus said.

“O-okay. Right. Bed. Straight away! But. I’m…indecent.”

“There’s nothing indecent about you,” Albus countered.  

Sig’s voice tore unexpectedly through the heavy silence of the dorm.

“Scorpius, just get into bed with him and shut up before I kill you,” Sig mumbled. “Nobody cares if you’re in your fancy, rich-boy pants.”

Scorpius blushed. He lowered his hands over his privates as if he could hide his silver-threaded, silk boxers that way.

“They’re not—rich-boy pants,” he defended weakly. “They’re the least expensive style at the shop.”

“My point is that nobody cares. Omri sleeps naked every night and nobody says a damn thing,” Sig continued.

“Omri sleeps naked?” Malcolm yawned. “Really? How’d I miss that?”

“ _Shut up, all of you!”_ Saul snapped from his bed. “I haven’t even gotten an hour’s decent sleep and we might still have classes tomorrow.”

They all fell silent. Scorpius edged towards his bed, lifted up the blankets, and then practically dove beneath them, not wanting to be so exposed while Saul was angry. He shifted into his typical spot, smiled into the pillow as Albus immediately slid closer, and then he felt his skin tingle all over, in a way that was almost more alarming than nice, because he realized now what Albus had meant when he’d mumbled _: ‘Or not pajamas. Not for me. Pajamas.’ Albus_ was in _his_ pants. But…Scorpius was undressed, too. There was suddenly a lot more bare skin than Scorpius knew what to do with. More than he was equipped to deal with.

“Oh,” he squeaked. He brought his hands safely to his own chest, though he supposed that was probably ridiculous; he had touched nearly every inch of Albus’s skin by now. But this felt different. Lying beneath the covers like this felt much more intimate than sticking his hands beneath Albus’s clothing did. With a surge of heat to his face, he was confronted with the frantic reality that he was here with his boyfriend, in this bed, with hardly anything between them. He could feel the unabated warmth emitting from Albus’s skin, and if he wanted, he could reach across and hold him, could stroke the soft skin of his back, could set a bare palm against his bare thigh, could kiss over his funny heart…he wanted to do those things, and maybe Albus wanted him to, too…

His heart was racing nervously. He reminded himself that Albus was okay with this, because Albus had instigated it (as Albus and his smoldering eyes were great at doing), and that he wouldn’t scare him off…and then he hesitantly slid over and took Albus into his arms. He felt his heart lurch in a way that felt almost like a somersault as their bare skin pressed together. He caressed his hand down Albus’s back. He lowered his face to Albus’s shoulder. He inhaled the scent of his skin and closed his eyes. Warmth from Albus enveloped him. Softness and warmth. _Thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-thump, thump_. Albus seemed to sink into his arms further with each breath cycle, and when he felt Albus sleepily kiss his neck, he couldn’t help but grin. Because he knew Albus liked this just as much as he did.

“I like this,” he blurted, his volume dimmed to a whisper.

“Mmhmm,” Albus agreed.

“You’re warm,” he continued.

Albus rubbed Scorpius’s thigh affectionately in response. Scorpius’s heart filled to bursting, and under the strain of that rampant emotion, he did what he always did: he began rambling.

“This feels…nice, in a different way, a… _serious_ way. Proper boyfriend way. Like buying each other dinner or…or…chocolates or flowers or broomsticks or whatever. Like furniture shopping. Do you like furniture shopping? My mum and dad always went furniture shopping. And, you know,” he let out a nervous laugh, “according to Professor Gantha we’ll need furniture for our three-bedroom flat and our very own baby so—” he snapped his lips shut as soon as his mind caught up with his mouth, but it was too late. He couldn’t push the words back down his throat; they’d already been spoken.

In the few seconds that followed that slip-up, his heart stopped, his face seared in embarrassment, and Albus leaned back from him. They locked eyes in the darkness for a moment but then looked away in embarrassment. Albus seemed much more awake now.

“Er…” Scorpius said. “I…er. Sorry. I wasn’t going to…ever mention that. Ever. Unless you did. But then. You rubbed my thigh. And I _liked_ that, a lot, you know, and I guess…I said all of that…instead of just saying… _I like that a lot, do that again_ …and…”

“Erm…” Albus said.

Silence settled back over them, heavy and uncomfortable. Scorpius hesitantly met Albus’s eyes. Albus did the same. Scorpius had no idea what to say, but luckily, it appeared as though he wouldn’t need to say anything just yet. Albus’s eyes were turning smoldering. Because he’d gotten so great at reading the signs, he wasn’t surprised at all when Albus suddenly leaned over and pressed his lips to his.

“So we’re—” Albus leaned in and kissed Scorpius again, deeper this time; the end of Scorpius’s sentence fell messily into Albus’s mouth. Scorpius lost his train of thought for a few moments. “We’re not—going to—” Albus’s hand had found Scorpius’s thigh again. He gave a delighted shiver in response. “Talk. We’re not going to talk about that prediction?”

“No,” Albus said. He leaned back and met Scorpius’s eyes with the cheekiest grin Scorpius had ever seen gracing his features. He lowered his voice to something almost fainter than a whisper, his eyes burning into Scorpius’s. “I’m going to touch you again instead.”

It was a _wonderful_ trade-off. Scorpius gave a gleeful laugh.

“Okay,” he said happily. “Me too. If that’s okay.”

“That’s always okay.”

They’d been dead on their feet ten minutes ago, but both Scorpius and Albus seemed to find new energy in the warmth beneath Scorpius’s blankets and the softness of each other’s skin. In the midst of kissing the freckles dashed along Albus’s shoulders, Scorpius could hardly remember the fear and pain he’d felt only hours ago underneath the dementors’ influence. And he hoped he’d never have to again.

* * *

 

He woke what felt like minutes after he and Albus had given into their exhaustion. He recognized Omri’s voice as the thing that had woken him. He snuggled closer to Albus.

“Evvie Wilson said that Slughorn said there are no classes today, because none of the professors had any sleep last night,” Omri explained. “But breakfast is served at the typical time.”

“Good, I’m starving,” replied Sig. “All those sweets last night have me craving something savory. Let’s go.”

Scorpius was becoming aware of his own hunger pangs, but he didn’t want to move. He decided that where he was, right in that moment, was the best place he’d ever been. And Albus must’ve agreed, because Scorpius felt him wake two or three times over the next half-hour, but each time he merely shifted closer, kissed Scorpius’s shoulder or arm, and stretched his legs before falling back asleep. Scorpius drifted in and out in a similar manner until nearly two hours had passed and they were both well aware that they were both forcing sleep at that point—and well aware that they were both aware of that fact.

“We should get breakfast,” Scorpius finally said, after Albus’s stomach gave a particularly angry grumble.

Albus groaned unhappily in response.

“If we wait long enough, my mum’ll send your dad to check on us, and I bet she’ll send food with him,” Albus pointed out.

“Yeah…but do we really want my dad finding us like this?”

“...No, you’re right, we don’t,” Albus agreed quickly. “Great Hall it is.”

“Look on the bright side! We can always come right back to bed! Slughorn said there’s no class,” Scorpius beamed.

Albus smiled so brightly that it left Scorpius grinning like a lovesick idiot.

* * *

 

It took them a bit longer to clean up and dress than Scorpius thought it would, so by the time they were entering the Great Hall, breakfast was nearly over. They were in such a hurry that, upon first entering, they failed to notice the new addition to the room. They made their way towards the Slytherin table…only to realize there was an extra table squeezed in between Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

“What?” Albus said blankly.

Scorpius and Albus came to a stop. They stood side by side and examined the fifth table. At first, Scorpius thought it was a Sevens table because nearly every Sevens member sans James and Evvie was at it. Nora and Roxanne were laughing with Ben, Louis and Clementine Clearwater were reading a book together, Jacques was fiddling with a broomstick servicing kit…but then Scorpius saw Lily, Aster, Caden, and the usual posse of third year boys. Further down, Hugo was talking happily with Iset (Rose appeared to be asleep at Iset’s side; her head was resting on the table). So it wasn’t a table exclusively for the Sevens.

“Whose table is that?” Scorpius asked Albus. Albus never got the chance to answer.

“Good morning to the sleepyheads who have just arrived!” James called. His voice rang loudly throughout the Great Hall. Scorpius looked up in confusion and turned towards his voice. James and Evvie were sitting side-by-side at the empty staff table, and despite the fact that both looked excruciatingly exhausted, James was smiling. “As I’m sure your Prefects have informed you, there are no classes today. All professors are currently having a quick kip. The dementors are gone and good riddance! As an extra safety precaution, Aurors are still roaming the Forbidden Forest and the grounds. Be kind if you come across them and they seem a bit short—they’ve been working all night.”

It looked as if James and Evvie had been working all night, too. Evvie politely pressed her palm over her mouth as she gave a huge yawn. James yawned after she did (less politely).

Evvie added: “I’m sure you’re all wondering about the table.” Scorpius spotted a few more heads bob in agreement from those who presumably came in right before or after he and Albus did – “It’s been set up as a place where members of all Houses may eat together. James and I, as well as a few of our classmates, have been working on implementing this addition all year, and we hope that some of you might consider using it. We disagree with the current level of House segregation, and those who agree with us are welcome to join our next party held on Halloween night.”

“I also have an announcement from my mum,” James began. “I mean—our new Quidditch referee and coach, Mrs. Potter. Those of you still waiting to complete try-outs are welcome to come down to the Pitch today to book your time. Slots are available from eleven until eight tonight. On a similar note, our first match will be Gryffindor versus Slytherin, two weeks from today. So you might want to get on those try-outs, Jacques.”

James smiled good-naturedly at Jacques, who looked mildly alarmed at this new schedule. He crammed nearly five sausages into his mouth and then jumped up and all but raced from the Great Hall.

“We’ll shut up now, but a word of warning: James and I are in charge until the professors wake, and if you’re considering taking us on: don’t. We’re incredibly exhausted, we’ve already broken up a violent fight in the second floor toilets, and we’re not in the mood to deal with it. Have a nice breakfast.” Evvie lifted her mug and took a sip of her coffee or tea, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. 

“Brilliant,” Albus said. “A table for anybody. Let’s go see if Rose made any progress on coming to terms with the fact that she fancies Iset.”

“I doubt it, it’s only been a few hours,” Scorpius pointed out.

“So? Look at all we’ve managed to do in a few hours. Quite impressive, really.”

Scorpius grinned at Albus. He tightened his hold on his arm, tugged him closer, and heard his own voice tuck down to that Naughty Scorpius tone, the one that was so much smoother and more confident than Scorpius himself ever was. “It’s because you’re all Albus-y. I can’t help it. You give me your intense eyes and then my desire to touch you is rhapsodic.”

“…Thanks, I think? Is that…a good thing? I don’t know whether to feel turned on or insulted.”

“It’s a good thing,” reassured Scorpius.

“Oh, then my desire to touch you is also…whatever you just said?”

“Rhapsodic.”

“Okay. If I didn’t know it the first time, I probably still don’t know it the second.”

Scorpius sighed. He _really_ needed to find a way to get Albus to read more. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Albus said. He nudged Scorpius’s ribs. He winked, so quickly that Scorpius almost missed it. “Good. _Don’t_ keep them off me.”

After a shared mischievous grin, Scorpius helped Albus over to the end of the table that Rose and Iset were at. They exchanged greetings and waves with everybody else at the table as they passed, and then they sat down beside Hugo and across from Rose and Iset.

“Good morning,” Scorpius greeted. He cheerfully piled eggs onto his plate, his heart bursting with excitement for his after-breakfast plans with Albus. “How’s the dementor-less morning treating you, Iset?”

“Oh,” she said. “Hello. Er, good.” It took her a moment to adjust to their sudden appearance, as it always did, but she seemed to recover much quicker than she usually did—something Scorpius attributed to Rose’s presence. He and Albus had noticed that effect more than ever last night. “It’s nice to have them gone. How are you both doing?”

“Good, yeah—” Albus leaned over Iset without thinking about it, reaching for the far plate of sausages. He caught himself a second later and quickly lowered back down onto his bottom. He looked at Iset, and Scorpius did too, the both of them expecting her to cringe away. But she managed with only the slightest shift towards Rose. Albus grabbed Scorpius’s thigh from beneath the table. Scorpius reached down and grabbed his, too, as if to say: _I know!!_

“I’m great!” Scorpius blurted, even though the window to answer Iset’s question had probably already closed. He beamed. Albus nodded along in agreement. Scorpius dropped his eyes to Rose, who still had her face resting in her arms. “Is Rose…actually asleep?”

“She’s got a headache,” Iset explained quietly. She reached up and tapped her own forehead. “Above her eyes and at the back of her head, here,” she reached over and gently touched the base of Rose’s skull. Rose hardly stirred.

“Oh,” Scorpius perked up. “Probably from the stress. Muggles call it a ‘tension headache’! Rose, you should go to Madam Pomfrey and get a pain potion.”

Rose muttered something into her arms. Scorpius thought he might’ve heard _Bread Head_ somewhere in there. Yikes.

“I’ll go,” Iset offered immediately. She seemed eager to help in some way. She rose from the table right as Rose sat straight up. She shot a hand out and grabbed onto Iset’s hand, stopping her as she began to walk off. Iset frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t go to the Hospital Wing,” Rose said.

Albus and Scorpius exchanged a quick look. From the concern saturating Rose’s words, this was about to get good.

“Why?” Iset asked. Her voice was still lowered into a soft whisper, even if Rose had spoken rather loudly and harshly.

“Because—because. Because…I feel better. No more headache. I guess I just needed to…rest my head,” Rose lied.

Scorpius thought it was fairly obvious that it was a lie (and that the real reason Rose didn’t want Iset to go was because she didn’t want her going off alone). Iset also seemed to be well aware of those things, but instead of calling Rose out on it, she smiled. She slid back into her place beside Rose. Rose had yet to drop her hand from Iset’s.

“Rina’s got pain potion in her trunk,” Iset said. “We can ask her for some before we start our homework.”

Albus deposited buttered toast onto his plate and (to Scorpius’s delight) Scorpius’s, too. He turned to Rose afterwards.

“You’re going into the Hufflepuff basement?” he demanded loudly. Rose winced. Iset winced in response to her wince.

“Soft voices,” Iset reminded them, and both Albus and Scorpius were so shocked that she was sort of scolding Albus that they didn’t say anything back.

Albus’s loud voice had done more than pain Rose and make Iset speak up; it gathered Lily’s attention. She moved from her previous seat and sat suddenly at Scorpius’s side.

“Hufflepuff Basement? I want to go,” she greeted. “I’ve seen the Ravenclaw Tower and the Slytherin Dungeon but I’ve never seen—”

“When have you seen the Slytherin Dungeon?!” Albus interrupted, horrified. Lily ignored him.

“Can I come along?” she asked sweetly.

“No,” Rose said coldly. “You can’t. You know, pretending that we didn’t argue doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I’m still angry with you.”

Lily scowled. “Seriously? You’re still angry? But it’s been nearly five entire hours, Rose. How long do you plan on being angry?”

“Until I’m not anymore,” Rose snapped. “Do you know how _embarrassing_ it was to get locked out because you decided it’d be fun to play around with Dark Magic? People thought it was _me_ who triggered the new safe-guards! The Fat Lady was being purposefully cagey to fuel the rumors!”

“Well honestly, Rose, that shouldn’t bother you. Anybody who’d look at the two of us and conclude that _you_ must be the one who did Dark Magic clearly doesn’t understand much at all. And their opinion really shouldn’t matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rose demanded, affronted. “I look like Miss Prim and Proper, do I?”

Lily nudged Scorpius’s arm.

“Scorpius, between Rose and I, who would you rather get into a duel with?” she demanded.

Scorpius balked, horrified. “Neither!”

“If you _had_ to,” Lily pressed.

“I wouldn’t!”

“Scorpius!” Lily said sharply.

He sighed. “Okay, okay…if I had to choose…well…I would definitely not like to duel you, Lily.”

Lily grinned smugly. She gestured his way.

“See? I clearly appear to be the dangerous one, so don’t worry, Rose. Your reputation is unharmed.”

“Except it’s _not_! Because everybody saw the Fat Lady closing up in front of _me_!”

Lily groaned. “This is so _annoying_ , Rose! We have Quidditch practice later! I don’t want to be ignored during Quidditch practice! Love me again!”

“No! I won’t!”

“ _Rose_! That’s a horrid, fucked up thing to say to your _family_!”

Scorpius felt a shock course through his system at the expletive. It always felt so _wrong_ to hear Lily speaking crudely because her voice was so sweet and the contrast was jarring.

“You’re not my family as long as you’re doing Unforgivables!” Rose snapped. She snatched her full mug from the table and stood. “I don’t claim you! And stop screaming, I’ve got a headache!”

She stormed off, leaving Lily fuming and Iset biting her lip. An awkward silence settled over their end of the table.

“I thought her headache went away?” Hugo finally asked.

* * *

 

Their plan of after-breakfast snogging (and, if they were lucky, more) was thwarted by Lily. She followed them from the Great Hall and ranted nonstop to Albus about how angry she was with Rose. Albus nodded and agreed and offered some pretty decent advice, but the closer they got to the Slytherin Dungeon, the more annoyed Albus became.

“Lily,” he finally said. “Can’t you go talk to Aster about this? I know Rose can be cold sometimes, but Scorpius and I have plans.”

Lily stopped walking. She observed them both, her eyes drifting from Albus to Scorpius. Scorpius found it extremely difficult to meet her eyes; he looked down guiltily.

“Fine,” she said, after a long pause. Her voice sounded smaller than normal. “Have fun with your _plans_.”

She turned on her heel and took off in the opposite direction. Albus groaned. Scorpius sighed.

“Albus…”

“I know, I know. And I’m not happy about it,” he hissed. He gave one more sigh and then set off after his sister. “Lily…wait.”

“Yeah, wait for us, Lily,” Scorpius added gently.

They caught up with Lily easily. She’d stopped at the staircase and sat on the bottom step. Scorpius took one look at her downcast face and knew she was upset. His heart inched down. He frowned. He walked over and sat beside her; Albus did the same.

“What’s wrong?” Scorpius asked.

Lily reached up and gathered her hair into her hands. She pulled her fingers through it nervously, her eyes locked on the floor.

“So many people are angry with me. Rose, James, Louis...”

“Er…you sort of…did illegal Dark Magic, Lily,” Albus pointed out.

Lily leaned forward and pressed her face into her thighs. She groaned angrily. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and puddled on the steps.

“But I _wasn’t_ hurting anybody or anything!” she exclaimed. She sounded so frustrated that she was nearing tears. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I never _wanted_ to hurt anyone. I don’t understand why everybody is so angry with me.”

“Because it’s illegal, Lily!” Albus repeated.

“It’s illegal to keep people from abusing and using each other! I wasn’t doing that! Caden wanted to; we drafted up rules beforehand and signed them! We knew what we were doing!”

“Yeah, but…but it’s still—you just can’t do that, Lily. You just can’t.”

“But _why_?” she pressed.

Albus struggled to respond to that.

“Because…it’s illegal.”

“But I didn’t use it in an illegal way.”

“But…it’s still illegal,” repeated Albus weakly. He was beginning to doubt himself. Scorpius decided to give it a shot.

“Lily, they’re probably angry because they think it was an unnecessary risk. Does that make sense?”

“No,” she said, her voice thick with frustrated tears, her face still hidden.

“Doing Dark Magic like that…even if you think it’s under control…things can still happen. And it wasn’t _necessary_ , you know, it was just for fun—”

“For training!” she interjected.

“But training for _what_?” Scorpius pointed out. “We’re not in a war. It just wasn’t necessary. And it probably seems very…insulting to them, that you’re playing around with Dark Magic when so many people in your family have been injured by it recently and in the past. Worrying too, I bet. They’re probably worried that you’re, you know…going to…go Dark.”

“I would _never_ ,” she said fiercely in her legs.

“Then don’t do Unforgivables, Lily. It really is that simple,” Albus said shortly.

“But I need to know if I can throw the Imperius off!”

“Well, can you?” Albus said.

“…Yeah.”

“So you’re done. You’re finished with your Unforgivable experiment. You wanted to learn to throw it off, and you did. Done. Ended.”

“Of course I’m done with it! That’s not the problem! The problem is that people are angry with me!” Lily argued.

“Get over it. That’s what happens when you do stupid things,” Albus snapped. “They’ll move on as long as you stop doing Unforgivables.”

“I wanted to be prepared! Dad says all the time that people want to hurt us! I just wanted to feel like I could protect myself. The Imperius scares me the most, way more than the Cruciatus, even more than dying. I just wanted to…” she trailed off. “Be less scared.” 

Scorpius doubted she would’ve admitted that had her face been visible. He’d felt _certain_ that what Lily had done was wrong, but at those words, his conviction shook a bit. He frowned. Albus also seemed unsure what to say back to that.

“You should tell James and Rose and Louis that,” Scorpius finally said. “It might help them understand.”

Lily sat up. The bridge of her glasses had left an angry red indention on her nose from the pressure of lying face-down for so long. She pulled her glasses off, dropped them into her lap, and rubbed over the line they’d left.

“They won’t care,” Lily finally said. She sounded much more wounded than Scorpius had anticipated. She pushed her glasses back on a moment later. “You heard Rose. She doesn’t claim me anymore.”

“Rose didn’t claim me for nearly five years,” Albus said sourly. “She got over it. She’ll _get_ over it.”

Lily huffed. She reached behind her, gathered her hair, and flipped it over the top of her head so it hung in front of her face like a curtain. Bitterly, from behind that curtain of hair: “I don’t know how to get people to understand me.”

“Welcome to my world, Lulu,” Albus snorted. He reached over and began moving sections of hair out of Lily’s face, bit by bit, until she was visible again.  She was pouting as she came into view.

“And mine,” Scorpius agreed. When the tip of her nose gave a tiny twitch, perhaps from withheld tears, he reached over and set his arm around her shoulders. His heart warmed as she immediately leaned her head against him, and he couldn’t help but smile. He grinned down at her, overwhelmed by that protective feeling of affection that seemed to overtake him when he was around her. He certainly couldn’t see the future like Professor Gantha claimed she could, but he knew that he would probably always want to protect Lily Potter, even if Lily Potter didn’t want to be protected. Even if Lily Potter seemed to actively sabotage herself on occasion.

“The Misunderstood Trio,” Scorpius teased.

She smiled and scrunched up her nose. Albus laughed along with them. 

“I’d drink to that,” Albus said.

Their laughter pandered off. All three heaved deep sighs.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll always be the Black Sheep,” Albus finally said.

“That actually does, a bit,” Lily said. She reached over and patted Albus’s shoulder. “Thanks. That helps.”

* * *

 

Scorpius and Albus stepped into the passage leading to the Slytherin Common Room.

“We did a good job,” Scorpius said.

“We did. James would give us a solid five if he were rating our lecture.”

“A five! Brilliant!” Scorpius celebrated. A quick thought occurred to him— _we make a good parenting team—_ but he was so embarrassed by it that he actually stumbled. Paranoid that Albus would somehow sense what he was thinking and be really turned off by it, Scorpius began reciting lyrics to French songs in his mind.

“What are you humming?” Albus asked curiously.

“What?”

“You’re humming.”

“Am I? Oh.” Scorpius stopped thinking about French song lyrics. “So…an entire day…you and me…the dormitory is almost certainly empty…”

Flirty Albus tightened his hold on Scorpius’s arm and grinned up at him. 

“This sounds like the beginning to my idea of a perfect afternoon,” he murmured.

Scorpius beamed. “Afternoon? We’re free well into the _evening_ …”

“The evening?” Albus said. He lifted his eyebrows and gave that cheeky grin again. Scorpius felt the blood migrate away from his rational mind at the sight of it. He slowed, squirmed a bit, and clenched his fists, struggling with the sudden urge to push Albus against the passageway wall. Who was he? Scorpius didn’t push people. He would never push anyone—and especially not Albus? So why was the idea of that suddenly so appealing—why couldn’t he get it out of his mind—why—

“I can think of loads of ways to spend our afternoon and evening,” Albus said, his grin _still in place_ , now paired with _smoldering eyes_ , and Scorpius thought he might explode. “First order of business: getting you out of those clothes—”

Scorpius surprised both Albus and himself as he suddenly pulled Albus to a stop, grasped onto his hips, and swung them both around to push Albus against the passageway wall. His heart was thudding hard in his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but he forced himself to slow down for a moment. He met Albus’s green eyes. He studied the depths of them, to make sure he couldn’t read any discomfort, but all he saw was churning intensity, the kind that made Scorpius’s body quickly gain control over his mind, and he couldn’t image going even a moment longer without kissing Albus.

He looped his arms around Albus’s waist to help keep him upright, pressed his body gently into Albus’s, and moved his lips to his. In less than a second, Albus had one hand at the back of Scorpius’s neck, one resting on his stomach, and his lips were already parted beneath Scorpius’s. That told some pleased part of Scorpius that he’d been yearning for the contact just as much.

He truly forgot that they were in the passage, not that he blamed himself. Their bodies were pressed together in a way that left little room for rational thought, Albus’s hand had found its way into his robes (as it often did), and Scorpius couldn’t remember the point of doing anything but _this_. He registered the sound of approaching footsteps but decided he didn’t care; breaking away would be worse than social scorn. Scorpius knew all there was to know about getting bullied, and he’d gladly take that over stopping this now…

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Albus and Scorpius.”

It was the Head Girl, and she had the power to actually punish them, but Scorpius…still wasn’t pulling away. Albus moved his hand up into Scorpius’s hair and seemed to kiss him harder. They heard Evvie sigh.

“No. Nope. No, I’m not dealing with this today, I am off-duty until dinner,” she muttered to herself. Which was good, because they weren’t planning on letting her deal with it today anyway.  “You two didn’t see me, I didn’t see you.”

“Okay,” Albus mumbled against Scorpius’s lips.

She hurried off, leaving Albus and Scorpius in blissful peace. Well—Scorpius assumed they had peace. If people were passing by as they snogged, he was none the wiser.

* * *

 

He and Albus were giggling inside the drawn hangings of his four-poster. Scorpius couldn’t seem to stop smiling. And he couldn’t seem to stop touching his boyfriend, either.

“You’re beautiful,” Albus admitted, his tone just a bit too low for the compliment to seem entirely innocent. Scorpius smiled so widely that it made his face ache, his heart doubled in size. His palm had been caressing the smooth, freckled skin of Albus’s back, over the slight dips and ridges of his ribs, but at those words, he pressed his hand against Albus’s spine and nudged him closer. Scorpius kissed Albus’s grinning mouth, smile to smile, chest to chest, their hearts beating rapidly against each other.

“You’re more beautiful,” Scorpius mumbled back. As if to back up that statement, he swept his hand over Albus’s bare hip, the dimples of his lower back, the scar that looked remarkably like a tick symbol on his upper thigh. He had decided quickly that even just lying bare with Albus was infinitely better than doing nearly anything else (and if he and Albus were also doing things—nothing could top that. Not even reading _A History of Magic)._

He could’ve kissed and touched Albus all day long, so when Albus’s stomach gave an audible rumble, he was inclined to ignore it. He wanted to keep on as they had been and take advantage of their free day and empty dorm, but hunger had been steadily gnawing at his own stomach too, and it had to have been past lunch by now. Actually, they might’ve missed lunch entirely; Scorpius had completely lost all concept of time. Being inside the closed bed hangings with Albus felt like another world, another dimension, one that he wasn’t eager to leave.

“I wish I had a house elf,” Albus murmured. He nuzzled his warm nose against Scorpius’s neck. Scorpius squirmed and struggled to contain his laughter. He countered by shying away, sliding down, and pressing a kiss over Albus’s ticklish ribs. Albus’s laughter was delightfully breathless, and from Scorpius’s vantage point, he was indeed finding it difficult to remember why they would ever choose to leave.

“ _You_ have house elves,” Albus commented, after his stomach gave another growl. “Can’t you call them here? They could bring us food.”

“I don’t need anything to eat,” Scorpius heard Naughty Scorpius say. “There’s plenty to do here with my mouth anyway, you know.”

Horrified embarrassment over his crass words overtook Scorpius at once. He felt his ears burn hotly. But he didn’t have to feel it for very long because Albus shimmied down so he was nose-to-nose with Scorpius a moment later, murmured something cheeky that sounded like _now I’ve got to kiss that dirty mouth_ , and Scorpius’s blush gradually faded as Albus kissed him. He sank into the kiss, into Albus’s hands stroking his skin, and he realized that Albus didn’t mind it. He reminded himself that Albus seemed to really _like_ Naughty Scorpius. He had _especially_ liked Naughty Scorpius within the past hour or so. And Scorpius had loved Flirty Albus just as much—if not more. Scorpius—who had been taught by his mother from the time he could talk to be unflinchingly polite—was slowly learning to find enjoyment in being vulgar.

“Whenever we do…you know,” Scorpius said softly, after Albus moved his lips to Scorpius’s jaw. “I think we might never leave the dorm…”

“I wouldn’t complain.”

Scorpius enjoyed Albus’s wandering kisses for a few moments, and then he got the urge to kiss him again, so he reached down and gently grasped his chin, dragging his face back upwards. He kissed him deeply, his skin tingling with excitement over the things they’d done and all the things left to do; he felt like this new world with Albus, this sexual world, was full of limitless possibility. He didn’t feel any rush to move any further than they already had, and he could tell Albus felt the same way. He enjoyed every second of everything they did and couldn’t imagine getting bored with it or with Albus. And while he was looking forward to doing more…he also looked forward to having that to look forward to. It was thrilling in a way that nothing else was.

 “We could always wait until the summer…sneak off to that abandoned cottage in the woods behind the Den…stay there all day long every day…no classes or responsibilities…” Scorpius suggested.

“How pragmatic of you, Scorpius,” Albus teased. “Scheduling our unrestrained lust.”

“Malfoy the Pragmatic.”

“Malfoy the Randy, more like it.”

“Albus the Instigator,” Scorpius shot back with a grin. “You love driving me mad.”

“More than I love almost anything else,” Albus admitted. “And, you know, I think I’m rather good at it.”

“You’re _great_ at it,” Scorpius agreed lowly.

“Finally, I’ve got a talent!”

“Actually, you’ve got many talents,” Scorpius pointed out. “A good amount of them were discovered here in this very bed. I credit myself with their discovery.”

“Thanks for appreciating me and my new talents.”

“Bit impossible not to appreciate them, Albus,” Scorpius admitted. Albus’s idle caressing hands skimmed low and Scorpius felt his body react. “See? My body is a massive fan.”

“I agree,” Albus said. His voice was husky again. Scorpius gave a delighted laugh because he loved that tone, and he wished Albus never spoke in any other ones. But then again…that would mean everybody else got to hear it…including Lumie Kolin…no, he changed his mind. Better that only he got to hear it, here in his bed, in their secret world. _Ha_ , Scorpius found himself thinking. _No one else gets to know about Flirty Albus and his many naughty talents. Just me. Only me._

Albus’s stomach gave another rumble. This time, Scorpius’s echoed it. They both sighed.

“We should probably get food,” Albus muttered, annoyed. “We should’ve stolen food from breakfast. We never learn, do we?”

Scorpius sighed again, dejected. He slid up and reached a hand through the bed hangings towards his bedside table. He grabbed the watch he never remembered to wear and checked the time. He frowned.

“Uh oh. Lunch is over. It’s nearly two!”

“Seriously?” Albus said, surprised.

“We should set an alarm next time,” Scorpius said. He felt a bit disoriented. He’d felt like he’d spent an incredibly long time and no time at all in the dorms. Time had slowed down for them but had sped up for everybody else.

“Let’s get dressed and go bother my mum for food,” Albus decided. 

Scorpius nodded. “Okay. Do you think your parents are awake? I wonder if my dad has even made it back here yet.”

Albus clicked his fingers. “Here—I’ll check the map if you’ll do the cleaning charms.”

“Okay,” Scorpius agreed. “Though I hope Slughorn doesn’t do my wand check again, he’s a bit suspicious I think…”

“He was our age once; I think he probably has a good idea what you’re using them for,” Albus said. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table, summoned the Maurader’s Map from his side of the dorm, and then pressed his wand to it. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

“Felt good to me,” Naughty Scorpius quipped back. He flushed again, but to be fair to himself, it was definitely Albus’s fault. He knew for a fact that he hadn’t been this way before he’d gotten involved with a Potter.

“Let’s see…” Albus said, as Scorpius did his best Charms work yet with a magnificent Scourgify, “Yeah, the Great Hall is cleared out…guess they didn’t decide to extend lunch. They should’ve since everybody’s so sleep deprived. Hey, your dad is back, Scorpius! He and Aunt Hermione are in Dad’s office with McGonagall. Wonder where James is if McGonagall is there? I assumed he’d spend all day doing Animagus training—oh, nevermind, he’s in the Common Room with Nora. Big surprise. Oh! Look!”

Albus shoved the map towards Scorpius, pointing at the Gryffindor Common Room. Scorpius saw _Lily Potter_ and _Rose Granger-Weasley_ together.

“I hope they’re apologizing to each other,” Albus said. “I hate when they argue…it’s miserable for everybody. _Oi_! What the—?! _Merlin’s most baggy Y-fronts!_ ”

Scorpius giggled. He’d heard Albus’s Uncle Ron say that once before during their holiday that summer, and he never got sick of it. “Baggy Y-fronts—” he laughed. Albus missed his amusement.

“LOOK. Caught! Oh, I caught her! Bossing us around like we’re toddlers, and look!”

Scorpius _did_ look, and what he saw made him clap his hand over his mouth in surprise. 

“Looks like Evvie had the same idea we did for today. No wonder she didn’t stop us,” Albus snickered.

“She _did_ say she was off-duty until dinner,” Scorpius pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don’t think off-duty is supposed to mean _inside the Gryffindor boys’ dorm_ ,” Albus said. “It’s over. Next time she tries to boss me around…ha! She’s breaking the rules! And James is too because I bet he’s being Ben’s little wingman—look at that, he and Nora are right in front of the dorm stairs, and I doubt a sofa is usually there. Hypocrites!”

“To be fair, though, she didn’t stop us,” Scorpius reminded Albus. “She didn’t see us, we didn’t see her, remember?”

Albus's face fell. “Damn. You’re right. Still—nothing in that verbal agreement says I can’t tease her.”

“I don’t think you’ll live long if you tease her.”

“It’s so worth the risk, Scorpius. Remember third year when she used to make me re-tuck my shirt every morning before I left breakfast?”

Scorpius sniggered. “Yeah!”

“It’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny, Albus.”

“Traitor.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Now?” Albus asked hopefully.

Scorpius reached over and patted Albus’s gurgling stomach. “After food.”

“Ugh, okay, you’re right. Damn weak Weasley stomach; I should be able to go longer than this without a meal…ridiculous…genetically unfair…”

Albus grumbled about his genes as they made slow progress towards the Potter parents’ living quarters. The Map told them Ginny was on the Quidditch pitch, but Albus seemed confident that his parents would have food stashed in the kitchen somewhere, and Scorpius thought it was probably a fair bet.

“We need to get the hospital cane while we’re there, just until we locate the other one,” Scorpius told Albus firmly. He parted his lips to argue, but Scorpius shook his head. “No, we’ve got to. I’m not a very good cane. What if there’s another attack? I can’t get us very far.”

“Fine,” Albus grumbled.

They were affectionately mauled by cats and Pygmy Puffs when they entered the living quarters. They ate an entire roast chicken and some sugar-free biscuits, drank nearly all of the chilled butterbeer, and decided to go check out the secret mirror in the bedroom that they’d never been allowed to meet. They were halfway to the door when Mrs. Potter unexpectedly returned. She was wind-swept and still in her Quidditch robes; she sighed in relief when she spotted them.

“There you are! Where have you two been?! I’ve been looking everywhere!”

“We were…busy,” Albus evaded. “Why? What’s wrong, Mum?”

“The Slytherin team is finishing up try-outs right now! Jacques searched for you two but eventually had to give up! If you don’t come down to the pitch now, you won’t be getting a spot on the team.”

That would’ve been all right with Scorpius, but then he remembered how carefree and happy Albus had looked zooming around the pitch, so he nodded.

“Okay. Albus?”

Albus had his hand on his stomach. It was protruding comically as if he were expecting.

“I don’t know if I can fly…I’m so full…”

“You can probably still fly— how much did you eat?” Ginny asked. She surveyed the kitchen. Her jaw dropped. “You ate that entire chicken?! Albus! Draco brought that back for dinner tonight, his elves made it!”

Scorpius smacked his own forehead. “I _knew_ it tasted familiar. Like home! I bet Scarlet made it. She always balances lavender and thyme exceptionally well…she picks it from my mum’s gardens, you know…”

“Oh, bugger,” Albus said, his eyes wide. “I’ll…we can go to the kitchens and get a replacement!”

“To my dad, there’s no replacing it,” Scorpius told Albus sadly. “He can tell the difference between herbs from my mum’s gardens and herbs from elsewhere. Mark my words: he’ll know.”

Ginny sighed. “I suppose this is my fault for giving my teenage kids free access to the kitchen…don’t worry about it. Now come along, we need to get down to the pitch immediately.”

* * *

 

Jacques was waiting nervously when they arrived.

“Finally!” Cyprus Avery—Beater—snapped. “We’ve been waiting for ages!”

“We didn’t—” Scorpius tried to defend, but Jillian Nott (the other Beater) interrupted him.

“Save it, let’s just fly, we’ve got places to be,” she spat.

“And attitude adjustments to get, clearly,” Albus said. Scorpius gave him a wide-eyed look and shook his head, but thankfully neither Nott nor Avery rose to his bait. They kicked off and rose into the sky. One of the Chasers, Ian Martes, followed. It was then that Scorpius noticed a familiar face.

“Oh,” he said. He walked over to the younger boy. “Hello, Caden. Are you trying out, too?”

“Already tried out,” Caden said. “Got it.”

Scorpius blinked. “Oh. Er…great!” Albus limped over to join them. “What position? Because I was trying for Keeper, but if you got Keeper, then I’ll just try for something else. I’m flexible.”

“Seeker,” Caden smirked. “Like Lily. But unlike Lily, _I_ caught the Snitch in five minutes.”

“Seeker?” Albus said sharply, his eyes narrowed. “What—you heard Gryffindor was playing against Slytherin first and just _had_ to get involved?”

Caden crossed his arms. “Lily’s angry with me.”

“So…your solution is to become the Slytherin Seeker…so you can play against her and taunt her?”

Caden gave Albus a look, as if the latter were being purposefully dense. “Do you even know Lily? She’s going to be thrilled. She loves competition.”

“Do _I_ know Lily?! Do _I_ _know Lily_?!” Albus echoed, outraged. “She’s _my_ sister! I’ve known her since she was born! Technically I even knew her before she was born!”

Caden blinked. “Okay?”

“So…so…” Albus struggled with his dislike. Scorpius knew he was searching for a logical reason to hate Caden. “You’re a bad influence on my sister and I don’t like it!”

“Lily’s a bad influence on _me_ ,” Caden scoffed. He pointed towards the sky. “Jacques is pointing at you two.”

Both Scorpius and Albus looked up, and sure enough, Jacques was motioning for them to kick off. Ginny handed them their brooms and they flew up to join the rest of the team. Scorpius took his place in front of the goals; the two Chasers (Ian Martes and Jacques Stinton) spent ten minutes firing Quaffle after Quaffle his way. Scorpius managed to save at least eight out of ten (he might’ve lost count a bit, but he still felt that was fairly decent). Albus did an even better job when it was his turn. Being able to move freely about had invigorated him with so much confidence that he seemed unstoppable. Scorpius watched in shock and awe as Albus scored goal after goal. When try-outs ended, and they landed back down on the ground, Ginny looked a bit teary.

“Finally,” she said, her arms enveloping Albus. “One of my children…a Chaser!”

“Stinton didn’t say he got the position,” Avery snapped.

Ginny appraised him coldly. “Stinton is intelligent, so I feel it’s safe to assume that he’ll give Albus the position. Stinton?”

“Of course. He scored ten more than the others who tried out,” Stinton answered. Avery looked extremely unhappy about it but didn’t contest Stinton’s decision.

“And Scorpius? Did he get it?” Albus asked nervously.

“What? Oh, yeah. He’s the only one who tried out for Keeper. Sorry, should’ve told you that at the start, I guess. He’s got it.”

Scorpius beamed. “Yes! Yay!”

Overjoyed, he threw his arms around Albus and Ginny. Both Potters laughed.

* * *

 

The Room of Requirement—taking on the appearance of the Seven’s headquarters—was bustling with activity. With only an hour until dinner, Scorpius assumed everybody would be winding down for the night, but when they entered, the seventh years were hunched over long, detailed sheets of parchment, drawing diagrams on a chalkboard, and engaged in strategic debates. Scorpius was interested in what they were planning, but Albus was only interested in revenge.

“Evvie Wilson,” he greeted.

Evvie looked up from an intense discussion with Clementine Clearwater. She arched a dark eyebrow.

“Yes? Everything all right, Albus?” she asked.

“Is somebody bothering you?” James interjected worriedly. He turned from Louis and Bec Floyd and faced Albus and Scorpius. “Who? Avery?”

“No, nobody’s bothering us,” Albus dismissed quickly. He pointed at Evvie. And then he pointed at Ben, who was at Evvie’s side, deep in conversation with Nora and Roxanne. “I caught you, Evvie. I know what—and who—you did today. At almost two in the afternoon.”

A slight flush over her cheeks was the only change to her appearance. Her face remained impassive. Her posture didn’t shift. Ben, on the other hand, had jumped and peered wildly towards Albus in alarm.

“And I know what—and who— _you_ did at two in the afternoon,” Evvie countered calmly.

Scorpius blushed. He looked down at his feet.

“You broke the rules, though. You went into Gryffindor Tower _and_ the boys’ dorms!” Albus countered.

“Prove it.”

Albus hesitated. “What? What do you mean ‘prove it’?”

“Prove that I did what you said I did.”

“I…well, I saw it, on my map!”

“Did you duplicate the map? So you could show it to somebody?”

“No…but—!”

“Ben, was I in your dorm with you today?”

Ben looked a bit _too_ pleased by the conversation topic. “No, she was not.”

“I saw her!” Albus argued hotly.

Ben shrugged. “Might want to have Harry check your map again, mate. No Evvie in my bed. Or on the windowsill—or the bedside table—or anywhere that she wasn’t supposed to be—”

Evvie backhanded Ben’s chest, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “They get it, _Chase_.”

Ben looked sweetly at her as if she’d just kissed him, which was enough confirmation, in Scorpius’s opinion.

“You’re just protecting her honor!” Albus snapped. He pointed at the both of them. “And—you didn’t do a good job fixing your hair; you still look thoroughly well-f—”

“Watch it,” Evvie warned. “You don’t want to swear at the Head Girl.”

“Albus,” Scorpius begged.

“Oh, fine,” Albus said. “But I know you broke the rules, and I know you’re lying, so I expect to get away with breaking the rules from time to time!”

Albus plopped down between Nora and Roxanne. Scorpius went to join him. He spotted Ben and Evvie quietly finger-combing through each other’s slightly tangled hair as he did. _Mmhmm_.

Scorpius sat on Nora’s other side. She smiled at him and held her hand out, her palm facing him. Scorpius stared, uncertain.

“High-five,” she explained, after a brief silence. “For getting Keeper!”

“Oh!” Scorpius smiled. He smacked her palm with his. “Thanks! To be honest, though, I had no competition.”

“That’s because we—the Gryffindor Chasers—keep running off the competition’s Keepers,” Nora winked. She patted his hair. “I’ll go easy on you. Rose and Ben, though…I can’t make any promises on their ends.”

Scorpius was feeling a little less enthused about being Keeper. He gestured towards the table in front of them. “What are all the charts for?”

“Oh, we’re planning for our Halloween party,” Nora smiled.

“Let’s get their opinions,” Sara Bones interjected. Scorpius and Albus peered towards her. She was sitting on the floor in front of the table methodically sorting the charts and diagrams with Jacques Stinton. “Here…” she produced a sheet of parchment. “What do you think of these ideas?”

Albus leaned forward and took the parchment. He and Scorpius looked down at it.

**Halloween Party Ideas  
****Please add an idea as you come and go from the RoR – no idea is a bad idea**  
**Please sign your name after each idea and return this parchment back to the table.**  
 **We will examine the ideas together weekly leading up to Halloween.**

  1. _No House-specific garments allowed!– James & Nora_
  2. _Following from the previous idea, no admittance without a costume. It will help strengthen the bond of the party-goers and support the spirit of the holiday. – Clementine_
  3. _Muggle mystery dinner. Let’s discuss if you don’t know what it is! – Bec_
  4. _Having learnt what this is, I think this would be fun. However, because the party is after the Feast, it might be best to make this simply a theatre performance. Most attendees will be full from the Feast. – Louis_
  5. _What about a fake haunted house? -- Sara_
  6. _I bet the Room of Requirement could become a brilliant one if we asked. Somebody look into this—Roxanne_
  7. _Haunted Muggle strip poker is an idea -- Ben_
  8. _No, it’s not – Evvie_
  9. _How do you haunt a game of poker? – Jacques_
  10. _We can get Nearly Headless Nick to attend – Ben_
  11. _There will be first years at this party. – Clementine_
  12. _I forgot Clem, my mistake. We’ll save that idea for our Sevens party – Ben_
  13. _I think, in light of what’s going on in the school right now, a light-hearted party might be best. Music, food—no scares or tricks. – Evvie_
  14. _I agree – James, Nora, Ben, Roxanne_
  15. _So no costumes or yes to costumes? – Clementine_



Scorpius looked up at the Sevens. The amount of planning was exhausting _him_ , and he wasn’t even involved. He hesitantly voiced his opinions.

“Well…after the dementor thing…I think maybe it _would_ be best to just…do a regular party,” he said.

“Yeah, I think if you try to scare some of these first years so soon after last night, they’ll actually pass out,” Albus agreed.

“What if we did masks?” Evvie suggested.

“Er…like Death Eaters?” Roxanne asked.

“Of course not. Animals, fun designs—whatever. It would help encourage people to mingle without worrying about who is in what House, who has a reputation for doing what…like not wearing House-specific things; this takes it a step further.”

Nora’s face brightened. “I could make them, to make sure they aren’t anything frightening, and we could have everybody grab one when they enter!”

“I really like that idea,” Ben enthused. “And if we advertise that, it might even encourage people who wouldn’t ordinarily come to join us.”

“I like that, too,” James said. He nodded. “Anyone disagree?”

“I don’t particularly _disagree_ , but I’d like to point out that anonymity can be a dangerous thing,” Clementine said. “What if somebody tries to hurt someone, thinking they can get away with it because nobody can see who they are?”

“We could have Bec give the masks out,” Sara suggested. “Bec never forgets a face. I bet she’d remember who had what mask, and it wouldn’t be as obvious as writing names down.”

“Yeah, I’d be all right with that,” Bec agreed.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” James waited, but everybody was nodding. “Brilliant. So we’ll do a party with masks. Al, you and Scorpius are coming to the party, right?”

“Er…perhaps. Last time we went to a party, it didn’t turn out so well,” Albus answered. “We’ll think about it.”

Scorpius thought it was likely that the party would be fun, but he was _positive_ staying in bed with Albus would be better.

* * *

 

The rest of the week went by in a blur of classes, homework, and Quidditch practice. Albus and Scorpius were both so busy that they could hardly find five minutes alone. The professors seemed determined to keep every student relentlessly occupied with assignment after assignment, Jacques Stinton seemed determined to cram as many practices into the day as possible without a time turner, and the faculty seemed determined to have eyes on the students at all times. It was rare now to ever be anywhere without a Prefect or faculty member in sight. They roamed the halls, stopping people at will to do wand checks. One more student had been caught by the new securities placed on the House entrances, but word had yet to spread on who it was. The dementors had remained off school grounds, save one brief instance with a singular one wandering onto the Quidditch pitch, but despite that, everybody still seemed on edge at Hogwarts. The closer Halloween got, the more the uneasiness spread throughout the air. And on Monday morning of the following week, Scorpius realized the true cause of that spreading apprehension.

“It’s not Halloween that’s making everybody nervous, Scorpius,” his dad informed him. “It’s Halloran Carrow’s trial.”

Albus and Scorpius were in Draco’s new living quarters. They’d stopped by that morning to say hello on their way to Divination. Scorpius had voiced his concerns over the nervous energy of the school, but as soon as his dad corrected him, he realized that that should’ve been obvious. The _Prophet_ had been reporting about the upcoming trial at least once every few days. It was a popular topic of conversation, because to many people, it would be a marker for determining what would happen next. Would the Ministry let off Halloran with a wrist-slap—implying that underage students could get away with Dark Magic if only they kicked up enough trouble? Would the Ministry come down hard on Carrow—implying there was still a very real bias against those associated with Death Eaters? The uneasiness wasn’t due to the trial itself. The uneasiness was surrounding the knowledge that, very soon, something would happen to break the fragile peace of their society. It was possible that there would be a catalyst, and many people seemed convinced it would be the Carrow trial.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Albus grumbled.

“It’s not fun,” Draco agreed. “But be glad that you’re alive to face and accuse him.”

“Dad, do you think it will set them off? The trial? Will it set off whoever is doing all of this by making them hate the Ministry even more?” Scorpius asked nervously.

“No, I don’t. Hermione has been preparing for this trial since the day after Albus was attacked. She knows precisely what’s at stake. And if you can trust Granger on one thing, it’s that she’ll do her homework.”

Scorpius glanced at Albus. He was already glancing Scorpius’s way. Scorpius took a deep breath and gave it a shot.

“Dad, do you know who—”

“Scorpius,” Draco interrupted, his tone firm. “As many adults have already told you two, we cannot tell you sensitive information discovered by the Aurors.”

“We just want to know who sent the dementors— _if_ somebody sent them!” Albus said.

“I know. And I wish that we could tell you. It isn’t that we don’t trust you; we don’t trust the people around you. What we found out…we can’t risk this spreading. You will get information when the public receives information.”

Albus grumbled but didn’t argue. Scorpius sighed in frustration.

“Dad…”

“I’m sorry.”

Scorpius sighed again. “Don’t be sorry, that’ll just make me feel guilty.”

“You two should get to class. Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”

Scorpius’s stomach clenched with nervousness. Tonight, before dinner, his dad was giving his first official speech to the students about his new involvement at the school, and Scorpius couldn’t remember ever feeling more nervous—both for his father and for himself.

“It’ll be there,” Scorpius reassured Draco weakly.

“Careful not to overwhelm yourself with all that excitement,” Draco said sarcastically.

“Sorry, it’s just…my classmates…they’re sort of…awful,” Scorpius explained. “I’m worried.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can take it. I’ve taken worse. Just watch out for yourself.” He gestured towards the doorway. “Now get to Divination before your professor publically names three more of your future children.”

“ _Dad_!” Scorpius squeaked. Albus’s face looked just as hot as Scorpius’s felt.

“Relax,” Draco dismissed. “She said James Potter would have twelve children, and I doubt any woman is going to want to—much less be able to—have a dozen children.”

Albus laughed. Draco turned his pale eyes to him.

“What?” Draco asked.

“Er…sorry, it’s just…have you met my brother and his girlfriend? They’re like…disgusting. They’re more married than any married couple I know. They sleep in matching pajamas. They made each other tea blends that they drink when they miss each other. They would _absolutely_ have twelve babies. They’d have like seven or eight and adopt the rest. And they would name them really soppy things like _Ginevra_ and _Harry_ and _Dean_ and _Seamus_ …”

“You mean they would name them after people they love?” Scorpius clarified, amused.

“Yeah. Which is soppy rubbish. Don’t get me started on this, please.”

“Yeah, Dad, don’t get Albus Severus Potter started on that ‘soppy rubbish’, please,” Scorpius teased. Albus swung his newly recovered cane (Slughorn found it kicked beneath his desk in his office) lightly at Scorpius.

Draco was looking at them oddly.

“Dad?” Scorpius questioned.

“Class. Get to class, Scorpius,” Draco ordered. He averted his eyes moments after. Scorpius shook his head as they left and headed towards Divination.

“I think remembering the war is making my dad a bit…”

“Overemotional? Yeah, I caught onto that, too.”

* * *

 

They were greeted by an unexpected redhead when they entered Harry’s classroom later that morning.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have another lesson to get to?” Albus asked Lily. She waved cheerfully at them from her place at Harry’s side.

“Not yet,” she told them mysteriously.

Albus, deadpanned: “Dad, what’s she up to?”

“For once…nothing that I’m not aware of,” Harry said. “Get to your seats please and get out your quills.”

Albus stamped suspiciously over to his seat. Scorpius sat in his place beside Albus and the two watched curiously as Lily and Harry examined a stack of parchment. When the last student had fallen into their respective seat, Harry smiled at the class.

“Good morning. Before we begin our lesson, my daughter wants to say a few words. Please give her your attention and respect.”

Claire Theva scoffed loudly. Harry walked over and sat in the seat behind hers in response.

“Hello!” Lily greeted brightly. She gestured at herself. “I’m Lily Potter—”

“No shit,” Saul snorted. Claire fell into derisive giggles.

“That hair and those glasses, what else would you be?” Claire stage-whispered. “Tragic.”

“Twenty points from Slytherin,” Harry said.  He was clearly trying to remain calm, but Scorpius noticed he was clenching his fists. “Next time it’s detention. Try me.”

They stopped giggling. Lily pulled her hair over her shoulder, glanced up to the ceiling, and took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep her temper in check. After a long moment, she exhaled slowly and gave the class a slightly-forced smile.

“Anyway,” she said tightly. It appeared to be paining her to repress whatever swears she wanted to fling Claire and Saul’s way, but she managed it. “I’m speaking to my dad’s classes today to offer you all a great opportunity! Well…most of you. Well…the ones I like.”

“Lily.”

“…Mostly all of you. Except for you,” she nodded towards Claire Theva. “You made fun of my hair. And my hair is phenomenal. So I don’t trust your judgement and you’re excluded.”

Claire Theva scoffed in response.

“My mum and I are starting a school publication. It’s come to our attention that there are many people who feel certain things—bad things—but won’t or can’t talk about them to people they know and trust. So we’ve created _Hogwarts Help_. It is a weekly advice column run anonymously and set up to help provide emotional support for—”

“Sorry, wait,” Saul interrupted, baffled. “Let me get this straight. We’re supposed to ask _you,_ a thirteen—”

“Shut it, I wasn’t done talking,” Lily interrupted right back. She observed Saul coolly and unflinchingly until Saul looked away, visible uncomfortable beneath her intense stare. Lily rolled her eyes and looked back at the class. She smiled again. “I’m here looking for volunteers! My mum and I are just organizing and distributing; we aren’t the ones responding to those who need advice unless we’re specifically addressed. We’re looking for people who might want to help. It won’t be very time-consuming…I know everybody is very busy. But if you like helping people, it might be a good way to help change things. We’ve got a few experts on board already for specific questions relating to health or laws or Dark Magic, but we want fellow students who can help advise on the everyday stuff. So. Here’s an information sheet about our first meeting…” Lily walked over and set the stack down in front of Rina Matthewson. She took one and began passing the stack down. “Are there any questions?”

“Yeah. How is this supposed to help? More Potter-run propaganda. Please. Spare us,” Saul said.

“All right. You’re spared, you whiny baby. Feel free to never touch a copy of our publication. Next?” Lily asked.

“He’s got a point,” Claire reiterated. “How is this different from the _Prophet_?”

Lily stared at Claire like she’d never seen anybody dumber in her entire life. “Do you even think at all? How could we be controlling the _Prophet_? The _Prophet_ says awful things about my family all the time. Come on…you can do better than that. Be a woman, Claire. Next.”

Claire flushed. “The Ministry is run and controlled by—”

“Oh, Merlin’s hairy bollocks, here we go again!”

“Lily, language!” Harry sighed.

Lily swung her hair over her shoulder again. She pointed at Claire.

“First of all, you probably wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for my dad. You want to have revelations and reality checks? My dad gave up his life to do what was right! Nobody made him do that. Nobody forced him to do that. He could’ve said ‘fuck off’ to Voldemort and just stayed at Hogwarts to play Quidditch and snog my mum, but did he? No. He did what he did because it was _right_ —he did it because he knew that if he didn’t, people would suffer, and he didn’t want them to suffer. So he suffered for them. And he was scared, but he did it anyway, and he fought anyway, and he won! And he’s a hero—he’s my hero! So you can shut your mouth! Because the people you defend, the people your friends defend, they hurt people for fun! They were fighting to rid the entire Wizarding world of Muggle-borns! They wanted to rid the world of Muggles! This is not an opinion! This is a fact! This is what you support—that’s what you say is okay—”

“You stupid little girl—”

“Detention, Theva!” Harry barked.

Lily’s face was red with anger.

“I am _not_ a stupid little girl. And when all of this is over, history will remember you as the loser, and I’ll be the winner. And _that_ is a fact, too.”

“Enough, Lily,” Harry said firmly. He stood. “Has everybody gotten an information sheet?”

Heads bobbed.

“Brilliant. Thanks for speaking with the class, Lily.”

Scorpius quickly began clapping loudly. Albus joined in. Most of the Hufflepuffs did, too. Lily curtsied.

“If anyone else wants to have a go at me, you know where to find me,” she said. “I hope you’ll consider volunteering. And Claire, I hope you’ll write in; it seems like talking with an expert historian would do you some good.”

Claire called Lily a word that made Harry take more points from Slytherin. Lily called her something rudely creative back, causing Harry to take twenty points from Gryffindor. It took a few minutes for the class to settle down after Lily’s departure.

“All right, all right…” Harry finally said. “I know I was vague on Friday about what we’d be covering next. I was originally going to move onto Dark aquatic threats, but I’ve decided to move things around. I think a more topical lesson is the Imperius Curse.”

Everybody focused fully on Harry.

“We’re going to cover the logistics of it. We’re going to cover how to tell if somebody you love’s been Imperiused. We’re going to discuss how to tell if _you_ have been. And we’re going to discuss how to throw it off. But before we do all if that…I want you to split into groups of four and get out parchment and quills. Go on. Groups of four.”

Scorpius and Albus exchanged a hesitant look. Scorpius looked behind them and met Iset’s eyes.

“Do you and Rina want to join us?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded. “Sure.”

Rina and Iset pulled their chairs up to the ends of Albus and Scorpius’s table.

“No, one sheet of parchment is enough,” Harry called loudly, in response to a student’s question. “All right. Looks as if everybody is ready. Now—working as a group—I want you to write down all you currently know about the Imperius Curse. Don’t worry about being _right_ ; any conception you have about it, write it down. This will be marked for completion only.”

Scorpius beamed. “Oh, I can help; I’ve read _loads_ on the Imperius Curse!”

“I know it’s an Unforgivable, it gives you control of another’s body and mind…” Rina began.

“You can make people do things they wouldn’t ordinarily be able to do,” Albus added. “You could make somebody who’d never played the violin once play it like an expert.”

“It was invented during the Middle Ages for the purpose of forcing people into slavery!” Scorpius shared excitedly. “In 1717—”

“What are you writing, Iset?” Albus interrupted curiously. Scorpius paused his lecture and looked towards Iset. She was steadily writing onto the parchment, and to Scorpius’s surprise, she’d already filled nearly half of it.

“I wrote down what you all said about it and now I’m writing about its effects,” she explained. “Don’t worry; I’ll save room for the history of it, Scorpius.”

“That’s…you know a lot about its effects…” Scorpius said uneasily.

Iset didn’t reply. Rina was reading over Iset’s shoulder.

“This is…horrid, Iset. Who told you how it feels to be Imperiused?”

Iset avoided Rina’s eyes. She shrugged.

“What happened in 1717, Scorpius?” she asked.

Albus and Scorpius shared a concerned look.

* * *

 

Their Monday lessons ended with double Charms with the Gryffindors. After a moderately successful lesson, Rose walked with them towards the Great Hall for dinner.

“Today in DADA we sat with your girlfriend—”

Rose’s skin darkened. “She’s not my girlfriend, Albus!”

Albus sighed. “Are we still at this phase? Sorry, okay. Today in DADA we sat with your…‘lady friend’…and she—”

“You know, it’s rude to assume things, Albus,” Rose snapped, interrupting him once again. She huffed and tightened her hold on her bag. “I never assumed things about you.”

“Uh, yes. Yes, you did. You assumed Scorpius was the son of Voldemort, you assumed it must ‘mean something’ that I was a Slytherin, you assumed loads.”

Rose didn’t respond to that. She stared at her feet as they walked. Scorpius assumed they’d walk in an awkward silence for the entire journey, but right as they entered the Entrance Hall, Rose grabbed both of them by the crooks of the elbows and pulled them through the door that led to the now-empty Classroom Eleven corridor. Once the door shut behind them, Rose rounded on them.

“What happened in DADA?”

“We were working in groups and filling out a sheet of parchment—”

“We had to write down what we collectively knew about the Imperius—”

“Iset knew a lot… _too much_ , in my opinion—”

“She could tell us exactly how it felt with details I’ve never even read in a book before!”

Oddly, Rose relaxed.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

“’ _Okay_ ’?” Albus demanded. “Rose, I think she’s been Imperiused before. How is that okay?”

“Not my place to respond to that. I just thought it was…something else,” Rose evaded.

Albus looked lost, but Scorpius realized he could place the expression flittering vulnerably across Rose’s face. It was born from an emotion that Scorpius had experienced often in the early years of his and Albus’s friendship.

“You thought she said something about you and her,” he realized softly.

Rose opened her mouth to rebut, but nothing came out. She looked away.

“Rose,” Albus said. His tone was uncharacteristically gentle. “You know, it’s all right. I mean, I’m sort of a biased person to be telling you that, but I’ve lived through it, and I know that it’s really…”

Albus trailed off, clearly reluctant to open up more than that to Rose, whom he was still rather guarded around (and for good reason). Scorpius took a deep breath and decided that baring himself would be worth it if it meant that he could help Rose and Iset.

“It’s confusing and frightening,” Scorpius supplied, and at that, Rose glanced up at him.

“Because on the one hand…” Scorpius continued. “There’s a part of you that knows you care about that person so much more than you’ve cared about somebody before. But then there’s another part that makes excuses and rationalizes…it says things like ‘well, maybe I just _really_ love this person’s friendship’ or ‘maybe I’m just desperate to be understood and that’s what I’m attracted to’. But you know it’s more than that, and that’s frightening, because what if that person doesn’t feel it back? If you…well, having your heart race every time you so much as slightly touch somebody and then fearing that they only see you as a friend…it’s a bit gutting. In…my opinion…” Scorpius trailed off awkwardly, because Rose had turned her back on him. He worried he’d made it worse.

But then she spoke, and her voice sounded pulled thin.

“So what do you do about it? Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically…you talk to that person…even if the only way you can manage to do it is in awkward, stumbling sentences that eventually just lead to a surprise kiss…” Scorpius grinned at Albus. Albus smiled back.

Rose still wouldn’t look at them.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s called fancying somebody, Rose,” Albus said dryly. “It’s one of the few things on this planet even Rose Granger-Weasley can’t plan and control.”

“But why now? We were always slight friends. You know, we talked in classes. In first year, do you remember—”

“When she cried for two weeks straight? Who in our year doesn’t remember that?” Albus said.  

Rose’s voice turned alarmingly cold. “Laugh about that and I’ll punch you.”

“Blimey, I wasn’t going to laugh, Rose!” Albus said, alarmed. Scorpius wrapped an arm around Albus’s waist, just in case he’d need to quickly pull him out of Rose’s path of impact.

“She was crying because her cat died suddenly on the train ride. Probably because of something her dad did. And it was the only thing left that brought her comfort—the only real bond she had at home after her parents fired her nanny. And that’s all I’m saying.” Rose’s voice no longer sounded strained; it was thick and brimming with withheld emotion now. Scorpius felt his own heart clench. His stomach inched towards his toes. He swallowed roughly. Rose continued after a moment’s heavy pause. “That’s when I met her, on the train, right after that, and I never even knew who she was because, at the time, she was too busy sobbing to give introductions. I didn’t even know she was a Goyle until a week after she was sorted into Hufflepuff—I thought ‘there’s no way that’s Goyle like _Gregory Goyle_ ’, I assumed she was a Muggle-born with the same surname. By the time Dad told me _Goyle_ Goyle had a daughter in my year, it was already obvious she wasn’t anything like her dad, and, well…it’s difficult to be suspicious of somebody who’s so upset over the death of a cat that they cry for two weeks. And I don’t understand why this is happening now, because like I’m trying to tell you, I’ve been friends with her since the start, but this year…”

Albus was positively eating this up. “The onset of puberty can happen at different ages for everyone, Rose—”

“ _Al_!” Rose interrupted. “Stop with the sass before I smack you!”

“Sorry,” Scorpius apologized for Albus. “Sometimes we just wake up and see people in a different light. I get it.” He paused. Rose still didn’t look comforted. “And, you know, she’s pretty in an understated way.”

“I already know she’s pretty,” Rose snapped.

“So…it makes sense that you fancy her.” 

“It’s not all about looks, Scorpius,” Rose said. Scorpius realized he was not doing a very good job of cheering Rose up. “It’s about the way I feel, and—”

She broke off, embarrassed.

“And…?” Albus nudged her ribs, urging her to continue. She smacked his shoulder in response.

“And I’ve never…felt that way before,” Rose finally finished, embarrassed and gruff. She cleared her throat. “If you tell her any of this…”

“We won’t,” Scorpius swore quickly.

“But you should,” Albus added. “She definitely feels the same way.”

“How do you know that?” Rose demanded, but there was an undercurrent of desperation that Scorpius could hear easily.

“…Have you _seen_ the way she lights up when you’re around? Wait, actually…that’s probably an idiotic question. Of course you can’t see how she is around other people. Okay. Take it from us, Rose. There is a _visible_ difference when you arrive. She’s a different person around you than she is around us. She’s happier when you’re there. And I don’t think it’s because Scorpius and I are poor company.”

“We’re not poor company,” Scorpius agreed quietly. Albus patted his hip in response.  

A smile was tugging at the corners of Rose’s lips. She was fighting against it, but she was losing.

“Really?” she asked.

“Really,” Albus reassured her. “Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Rose said. She sounded a bit dazed. “I’ll be there. Save me a seat.”

They left her pacing the passage way, a soft smile still in place. Scorpius was beaming.

“I love it,” he told Albus happily.

“I can’t believe we were ever in denial like that; it’s hilarious,” Albus added. They stepped into the Great Hall. Scorpius’s dad was already standing at the front. “Ooh, your dad is about to speak. Let’s hurry and sit.”

They sat at the end of the mixed-House table. Scorpius noticed it had even more people now than it did this morning; every day a few more people seemed to elect to sit at it. On some days, the Gryffindor table looked particularly barren. On other days, it was the Hufflepuff table. Today the Ravenclaw had a lot of empty spaces in its midst, too. Scorpius locked eyes with James as he examined the new people at the table; James smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up. Scorpius returned the smile.

“Good evening,” McGonagall greeted. At once, the conversation and commotion quieted down. “I hope the week started well for everyone. I have a few announcements, and then I’m going to introduce our new faculty member who is going to say a few words. First: I’m delighted to report that we’ve been four days without any dementor sightings here or in Hogsmeade. The Aurors report that they have all retreated deep into the Forbidden Forest, but I want to remind students to remain on guard, and to be critical of any and all rumors you might hear surrounding the dementors.”

Albus set a hand on Scorpius’s thigh. Scorpius looked down at him. He was examining the staff table with a furrowed brow.

“Where are my parents?” he hissed.

Their spots _were_ empty. Scorpius frowned.

“We will continue with double-patrols for Prefects. Those of you who can produce a Patronus, be especially vigilant. As always, if you see or hear something, report it straight to the Head Boy or Girl, your Head of House, me, or the nearest professor. Do not be complacent. Additionally, Professor Potter has asked me to make this announcement in his absence: beginning on Monday of next week, he will be offering Defense lessons for anybody who is interested, regardless of age. He will meet—”

Rampant, loud whispering bloomed across the Great Hall. McGonagall sighed.

“Okay, quiet down now—you can’t very well go to this meeting if you don’t let me tell you where it is located!”

The students gradually fell silent again.

“He will meet those students interested in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom at seven thirty on Monday. Bring your wands and nothing else. I also have an announcement from our Quidditch coach, who says she has heard from many students that there has been hexing in the corridors against Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch players. She wishes to remind you all that any student found hexing a player before Saturday’s match will be, in her words, ‘forever excluded from Hogwarts Quidditch games and teams’. She would also like to add that it’s in ‘extremely pathetic taste’ to resort to foul-play and she encourages those who are self-conscious enough to do this to instead ‘practice harder’. She has, interestingly enough, only placed emphasis on consequences for hexing players _before_ the match, so I would like to stress to you all that the same level of punishment will be enacted for hexing them _afterwards_.”

“James,” Albus hissed down the table. Roxanne heard Albus and leaned across Nora to smack James’s arm. James turned away from his conversation with Evvie and met Albus’s eyes. “Where’s Mum and Dad?”

“Ministry,” James called back.

“Why?” Albus demanded.

James shrugged. “Wouldn’t tell me.”

 “Now,” McGonagall said, after she’d finished up her last announcement. “I would like to introduce everyone to our new Conflict Counselor—Mr. Draco Malfoy. He’s going to explain his new role and say a few words. Please treat him respectfully.”

The hall had been buzzing to various degrees all night, but at that, it grew in volume. Scorpius could feel the curious gazes of many of his classmates. He focused on his dad and pretended that he didn’t notice the ogling. From the table behind him, Scorpius heard Claire Theva saying loudly: ‘ _An ex-Death Eater! I can’t believe she hired him! About time…_ ’ to which Cyprus Avery responded: _‘Ha, yeah right; the Malfoys are in the Potters’ pockets, Claire.’_

Scorpius resisted the urge to bury his face into his goblet of pumpkin juice. He took a deep breath and focused entirely on his dad. Scorpius could tell he was nervous, but he was sure that nobody else could. His dad appeared tranquil; he stood tall with his face impassive as he waited for everybody to give him silence. But Scorpius saw the way he was rubbing the fabric of his suit jacket sleeve between his thumb and forefinger (and the faint line that’d formed between his eyebrows).

“Hello,” Draco finally greeted, once the noise had died down. “As Professor McGonagall informed you, my name is Draco Malfoy and I’m taking up the new role of Conflict Counselor here at Hogwarts. This was not a position that existed when I was a student here, but if it had, it’s possible that things might have been very different.”

Scorpius took a deep breath, and as he did, he noticed his dad had done so at the same exact time, too. He felt his heart widen with affection for his dad; he wanted to walk up and stand beside him, so he knew that he wasn’t alone, because Scorpius knew what it felt like to have so many judging eyes on you. But the best he could do was give his dad every ounce of his focus and attention and hope that his classmates would do the same.

“Tensions are high both here and out there,” Draco gestured vaguely towards the walls of the Hall. “If you are associated with those who were once Death Eaters, tensions have _always_ been high for you. I know. I understand, because despite what the _Prophet_ might report, I have _always_ felt that. I don’t wish to speak ill of the _Prophet_ more than necessary, but I must stress that I—nor our Ministry—are involved in any sort of power-seeking corruption controlled by the Potter family. I know what real power-seeking corruption looks like. You see, I was involved with it, and I’ve got the Mark to show for it.”

To Scorpius’s intermingled surprise and horror, his dad pulled his robe sleeve up and brandished the Dark Mark. Scorpius was perhaps more shocked than his classmates because only he knew how monumental that was for his dad. For Scorpius’s entire childhood, his dad had worn long sleeves. He’d even swam in swim shirts in the Malfoy Manor pool. Scorpius had only seen the Dark Mark a few times in his childhood: once when he’d accidentally barged into his parents’ room when his dad was in a towel, and once when his dad had spilt boiling water on himself and had to pull his shirt off. Both times, he remembered feeling ill for hours afterwards without even really knowing _why_. All he knew was that the Mark looked scary, and he knew it had to have been a bad thing, because even at his young age, he’d noticed the lengths his dad had gone to to keep it a secret. And so to see him bare it now, for hundreds and hundreds of students…Scorpius felt foolishly close to tears. And nobody else would even appreciate the lengths his dad was going to to fix things, to keep Scorpius from having to live through a war like he did. Nobody else would understand.

“I understand the criticism of the Potters. When I was your ages, I _despised_ Harry Potter. I went out of my way to make his life as difficult as possible. I _hated_ his wife and her family. See—they stood for everything I didn’t. They embodied all the traits I wanted but felt I could never have. And, to be honest, Potter was arrogant, foolhardy, and a bit whiny.”

Snickers erupted from the Slytherin table. Draco spared them a brief smile.

“So while it may be true that Harry Potter can be grating, it is also true that he has always done what is _right_.”

The sounds of whispered disagreement passed from person to person, mostly at the Slytherin table. Scorpius’s palms were sweaty now. Albus reached over and took his hand, but if he minded the sweat, it didn’t show; he gave Scorpius’s hand a warm squeeze and held on. It meant more than Scorpius could’ve ever said.

“As with every rebellion, there are elements of your foundation that are correct and elements that are wrong. And let us not be mistaken: those of you who are continuously doubting the past, who are hexing each other in corridors, or using the Imperius Curse on fellow students without their consent, or telling your fellow students that Potter and Dumbledore’s Army made up lies to persecute Death Eaters and their families, or that Potter has created all of this just to gather control—you are starting a rebellion. You are _fueling_ a rebellion. And those of you sitting here, thinking that I have no idea of the scale of this, assuming that I’m not aware of the involvement going on outside of this school: rest assured that I am. _We_ are. And I will not dismiss or forgive your actions as the actions of foolish children. Despite your ages, you are, for better or for worse, feeding a rebellion that _will_ grow into a violent war, and you are doing it deliberately. Is that really what you want?”

The question hung awkwardly and heavily over all their heads. Draco didn’t give the students a chance to start whispering again before he continued.

“But, as I stated, there are certain things that you are correct about in this rebellion. Those of you with mothers or fathers or aunts or uncles who were Death Eaters know a truth that nobody else here could know or truly appreciate: we have experienced great hardship. Since the war has ended, things have not been easy for us. The Ministry keeps Aurors trailing most of us, to the point that our freedom is, in my opinion, unjustly compromised. I’m sure many of you remember walking around Diagon Alley as a child and wondering why that certain man or woman in brown was always following after you. My son did; he asked my wife and me on many occasions, and I admit that I was never sure what to say. How could I be honest without making my son frightened of me? How could I admit that I had done things to warrant being followed without making him see me as a monster? I know that the solution many of your parents and caretakers came up with was to blame the Ministry, the Aurors, and ultimately, Harry Potter. And, as I’ve said, it is undeniably true that the Ministry was reformed in a way that made life very difficult for us following the war. Jobs were difficult—if not impossible—to get for many of us. The social stigma against us made it more appealing for most of us to hide away in our houses than go out. The law passed after the war that prohibited ex-Death Eaters from owning certain Dark artifacts meant that many families had to give up cherished family heirlooms; my own father, who curated expensive Dark objects, moved his massive collection into hiding. Had that been discovered before his death, I’m sure he would have been sent to Azkaban.”

He was stirring up something dangerous within the Great Hall. Scorpius glanced back at the Slytherin table. Theva, Saul, Avery, Nott, and various others were paying eerily close attention to every word from his dad’s mouth.

“I want everybody listening to hear me—really hear what I am telling you.  A prejudice _does_ exist against those associated with Death Eaters. You cannot refute this. To do so invalidates all that we have gone through since the War ended. To do so widens the divide between us all. There _is a prejudice_ —those of you feeding this rebellion have a right to feel like you do. You have a right to be angry. You have a right to want change. You have a right to be frustrated with classmates and professors who won’t recognize your hardships. But this hardship…this prejudice…is not undeserved.”

Scorpius tightened his grip on Albus’s hand nervously. Draco had to raise his voice to speak above the angry shouts rising from the Slytherin table.

“The only undeserved prejudice in our society was the dangerous and prevailing prejudice against Muggle-borns and Muggles. This is a prejudice I exemplified during my time at Hogwarts. It was a prejudice I was raised with. I _hated_ Muggle-borns; I called our Minister for Magic a ‘Mudblood’ on multiple occasions as a child.”

Many people flinched at the sound of the slur, Scorpius included. It sounded wrong to hear it coming from his dad’s lips.

“Death Eaters were united against Muggle-borns, Muggles, and their sympathizers. Death Eaters tortured and killed more Muggles and Muggle-borns that I can count. We did so because we thought they were lesser. We wanted to rid the world of them. I would not stand up here in front of my _son_ , who, to my amazement, has always loved me despite my past, and admit these horrible things if they were not true. And they’re true. If you know somebody who was a Death Eater, they were the most prejudiced of all, and they put that prejudice into action. They took lives. They took the lives of parents, of children, of the elderly. They tortured parents into insanity in front of their children. They tortured _children_. When Voldemort was using my family’s Manor as a headquarters, Death Eaters captured and tortured a Muggle child in the gardens. For fun. Six years old. For _fun_.”

The Slytherin table was silent now. Scorpius felt sick. Where in the gardens? Where he and his mother had knelt and planted lavender? Where he chased the peacocks during long summer days? Where he and his family used to watch meteor showers together?

His dad’s voice was quieter now. “I was here for the last rebellion that Hogwarts saw. We had two Death Eaters acting as professors. The things that you’ve heard—they’re true. Students were forced to use the Cruciatus Curse on first years. The Imperius Curse was used for…horrible, vile things, things that still, to this day, make my stomach clench. Things that have forever made that the curse that my generation fears most of all.”

Scorpius glanced down the table towards Lily. She was looking down at her empty plate; her hair was falling over her face and blocking her expression. Scorpius looked back to his dad.

“I…I used these curses on people. People that…” he trailed off, visibly upset. “People that are here now. Who lived through it. Professor Longbottom. Ginny Potter. I stood by as they were hurt—I didn’t say anything. I avoided hurting people as much as I could…but when you get involved with Death Eaters…hurting others becomes a reality whether you want it to or not.”

Scorpius glanced quickly at Albus. If Albus was surprised by the knowledge that Scorpius’s dad had once harmed his mum, it didn’t show. He met Scorpius’s gaze and smiled reassuringly at him. It made everything feel just a bit lighter. Scorpius smiled weakly back.

“All of this brings me to my new role. I know it sounds slightly…ridiculous. Conflict Counselor. But there wasn’t any other title that seemed any better, because what I’m hoping to do at this school is complicated and difficult. Because I know… _I know_ that there are some of you listening who are involved in horrible things. I know that some of you feel powerful and you enjoy it. I know that you are _good_ at it. My friends in my Hogwarts years…when the Carrows took over Hogwarts…they excelled at torture. They _enjoyed_ it, and what’s more, they enjoyed excelling at it. I know and understand that some of you feel that way. What I hope to do for you is help you understand the long-term consequences to this short-term enjoyment. And for others still…probably the majority of you…you’re involved because you’re frustrated, and you don’t know what else to do. You _know_ change is needed, but the only group offering change is this rebelling group, and even if you don’t entirely agree all the time—at least they’re offering change, right? I understand that. But you must believe me when I say a group’s ideals reflect you wholly and forever. An ex-Death Eater who was for the extermination of Muggle-borns but thought we ought to leave Muggles alone was not recognized after the war as ‘the Death Eater who thought Muggles were all right’. He was recognized as a Death Eater, and as such, he was forever associated with _all_ the Death Eater ideals. Do you agree with all your movement has done thus far? I hope so. Because you will always be associated with it now if you keep moving forward. For this group of students, I want to show you that there is a better way, and I want you to work with me as I work alongside our Minister for Magic to draft laws to remedy some of the past mistakes.” Draco took a moment to peer out and take stock of the students. Scorpius wished he could’ve seen all of them from Draco’s viewpoint. “And lastly, I’m speaking to what I’m sure is a small percentage of you. Perhaps there’s only two. Maybe there’s even only one of you. But I know you exist because I was once one of you. If there is anybody out there who is involved in this rebellion because they are being forced to be, whether by peers or parents, I want you to know that I understand how complicated it is. Maybe you’re involved because your own life was threatened. Maybe you’re involved because somebody you love’s life was threatened. It is not your fault. But if you don’t step forward and get help now, you will be taken down with all the rest. For this group, I offer understanding, and most importantly, _help_. Let me help you.”

Scorpius automatically searched up and down the table for Iset Goyle. He spotted her at the very end. Rose had entered the Great Hall at some point during Draco’s speech, and the two were sitting side-by-side, their eyes chained on Scorpius’s dad. Iset’s arm was looped loosely around Rose’s waist; Rose’s returning hold was much firmer and protective.

“There are many things I’ll be providing this year. Most importantly, I’ll be available in my office—located in the Library Corridor, door on the left—during class hours. Every single professor has been instructed to allow passes to see me at any point during your lessons, with no questions asked. If you have a concern, come talk. If you’ve got questions about the war or the Death Eaters, come see me. I want to help you understand. If you wish to protect your identity, I am working closely with Ginny Potter and Lily Potter on their new project. As I’m sure you’ve heard today, they are opening an advice column. You can write anonymously to me directly and I will respond. At the suggestion of your Head Girl and Head Boy, we will be doing open discussions in the Great Hall every Thursday night. I hope you consider joining us if you have concerns or questions. Thank you for listening.”

Scorpius was first to clap, but to his amazement, he was not the one clapping hardest. All around him, members of every House were rising to their feet and clapping hard. At the Slytherin table, Jillian Nott was in tears. Albus rose weakly to his feet and tugged on their joined hands, pulling Scorpius from his shock; he rose and clapped alongside Albus and everybody else. The only person who looked more surprised than him was his dad, who kept looking over his shoulder at the students as he walked back to his seat at the staff table like he halfway expected their applause to turn mocking at any moment. Professor Longbottom clapped him warmly on the shoulder, which only served to make Draco more disoriented.

“With all that being said—let us eat!” McGonagall ordered.

Food appeared, and after his dad had been so warmly applauded, Scorpius’s appetite had thankfully returned.

* * *

 

The first thing he did when he saw his dad after dinner was hug him tightly.

“Oh, hello,” his dad said stiffly, audibly surprised. He patted Scorpius’s back.

“You’re the bravest,” Scorpius muttered, where only his dad could hear. His dad looked flustered and pleased when Scorpius leaned back.

“It wasn’t enjoyable, but it went better than I thought it would,” he said.

“It was great,” Albus gushed. “Jillian Nott was crying afterwards. You really got to her.”

“I just hope I managed to get to the ones who needed it.”

* * *

 

He had, as it turned out, managed to get to enough people to make a discernable difference.

Over the rest of that week, the hexing and cursing completely stopped. More and more people joined the open-House table in the Great Hall for meals. And Scorpius often saw people hovering uncertainly in the Library Corridor, clearly debating with whether or not to pop in on Draco Malfoy.

Scorpius and Albus had Quidditch practice for two hours each evening as their first match approached that Saturday—something that Scorpius would’ve bemoaned (he was missing out on crucial reading time) if it weren’t for how much Albus seemed to be enjoying them. His leg weakness was getting better and better the longer he took the potion, but the fact remained that he felt freer flying than he’d felt since his injury, and that led to an Albus who was carefree and, as it turned out, confident because of that exuberant mood. And when he was confident, he was a phenomenal Chaser. And when he was a phenomenal Chaser, he was even _happier_. And when he was that happy, Scorpius was that happy, and not only because it lead to many lovely and exciting dressing room rendezvous after practices.

And while they practiced, Ginny, Lily, Draco, and Harry sat in the stands working on their ‘advice column’. Their first issue was due out the following week, and they’d already gotten a lot more messages than they’d anticipated, with many being addressed specifically for ‘Mr. Malfoy’. Scorpius had a feeling the publication would end up being a helpful tool, but in his opinion, one of the best things the publication was doing was giving Lily somewhere positive to channel her energy and drive. He was certain that this was one of the main reasons her parents had made her the leader of it—and it worked. She was not only entirely focused on it; she was _great_ at it. She’d gotten so many volunteers that they had to be rotated weekly. She’d even talked Scorpius into agreeing to help out from time to time. He was just glad things seemed to be better. He didn’t like when she was upset.

On that Thursday, the night of the first open discussion, Scorpius expected the Great Hall to be packed full. His classmates had certainly seemed to receive his dad’s first lecture well. But when he and Albus entered, ten minutes after the time it was due to start, it was nearly empty.

“Oh,” Scorpius said, surprised.

His dad waved at him from the far end of the middle table. Scorpius waved back hesitantly, and after exchanging a disappointed look with Albus, they trudged up to join the small group.

“What?” Albus demanded, outraged. He sat down beside Rose. “All the Sevens aren’t even here!”

“Most of them are on patrol,” Evvie defended. “They can’t help it.”

Scorpius felt slightly irritated with them, even though he knew it wasn’t their fault. His dad had worked so hard on preparing for this discussion night, and they didn’t even have enough people to fill an entire table. The Potter family was there, Caden Rowle, Aster Boot, Emi Crescent, Nora Thomas, Ben Wood, Evvie Wilson, Roxanne Weasley, Rose, Iset Goyle—where were the rest? Where were the ones who had been causing trouble, the ones who seemed to have plenty to say when they were arguing with Harry? Ones like Saul Montague and Claire Theva? Scorpius was frustrated that this hadn’t gone the way his dad had planned. He felt embarrassed for him, too.

“Lily,” Rose said, interrupting the awkward silence. “Your hair looks really nice.”

Scorpius assumed the compliment was Rose attempting to rebuild her and Lily’s friendship, but when he glanced towards Lily, he realized that her hair _did_ look really nice. He wasn’t sure how or why, but it seemed more captivating than usual. He found himself staring at the shine of it in the candlelight; he could see a plethora of different shades of gold and ruby that he’d never noticed before. And he wasn’t the only one. Now that Rose had drawn attention to it, everybody was looking at it like it was a sudden, dazzling light. James—who was sitting beside Lily—reached out and patted it.

“Cool,” said James.

“Oh, yeah,” Lily said. “So my eye-sight potion went a bit…crooked when I tried to add a new ingredient. The good news is: my hair is unstoppable. Maybe even a bit hypnotic? Not sure what happened. The bad news? My eyesight actually got worse. I’m working on it.”

“Lily!” Ginny said worriedly.

“Slughorn says it won’t last long and we’re going to fix it,” Lily reassured her parents.

Caden reached out to touch Lily’s hair, his eyes locked on it just like everybody else’s were, but Lily shot a hand out and grabbed his hand before he could.

“We’re not there yet, Caden,” she said. “No hair-touching.”

He frowned. Nora hurriedly switched topics, probably for the sake of interrupting Lily and Caden before they could start fighting (as they were prone to doing).

“So, Scorpius and Albus, before you arrived Caden and Iset were discussing how being related to ex-Death Eaters affects them,” Nora said gently. “Did you want to say anything about that, Scorpius?”

With his dad watching? Absolutely not. Scorpius felt his face burn as everybody looked towards him.

“Er…well, people assume things about me that aren’t true…that I’m a blood purist…that I’m, you know, evil…” he trailed off.

“But at least you’re the son of the Death Eater who turned _against_ Voldemort, even if it was at the very end,” Caden said.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Scorpius allowed. “Er…if you don’t mind me asking…who were your parents? Are you related to…Euphemia Rowle?”

Albus shifted beside Scorpius. Scorpius was sure he was remembering Delphi’s not-so-kind words on her guardian Euphemia Rowle.

“Distantly,” Caden answered shortly, which seemed a bit too suspicious for Scorpius’s liking. “My dad was Thorfinn Rowle. Death Eater during the Second Wizarding World. He did a lot of rubbish to pretty much everybody.”

“I knew him,” Draco said curtly.

Judging by the look Ginny and Harry exchanged, they did, too. Lily was staring at Caden.

“Was?” she finally asked, her voice smaller than usual. “He _was_ Thorfinn Rowle?”

A silence settled over the table. The adults shared an uncomfortable look. Caden turned to face Lily.

“Oh, yeah, I’m an orphan,” he told her.

Lily stared. “Wait, what? You’re a _what_?”

“An orphan.”

“You…wait. So over all the time we’ve known each other, you didn’t once think to mention the fact that you’re an orphan?!” Lily seemed extremely disturbed by this. She was looking at Caden as if he’d just admitted he had a terminal illness.

“It never came up,” he shrugged.

“How does something like that just…not come up?” Lily demanded.

“I never really knew them. And anyway, they were sore losers. They killed themselves when I was two. I was in the room, but I don’t think I remember it. They couldn’t cope with living in a world where they lost…couldn’t cope with being the losers for once. Good riddance.”

Another heavy silence fell over their group, but this time, it was a horrified one. Scorpius cleared his throat and looked down at the table. Albus had stiffened beside him.

“I’m so sorry,” Iset whispered.

“Oh,” Caden said. “Really, don’t be. It’s not a big deal.”

Scorpius glanced back up. The adults didn’t look entirely surprised, so Scorpius guessed they at least knew a bit about this beforehand. Mostly everybody appeared horrified. But Lily looked positively gutted. She looked as if somebody had randomly smacked her across the face.

“Are you going to cry or something?” Caden asked her.

Instead of offering awkward condolences or teasing him back, she reached out and grabbed onto Caden’s hand, which was resting in a tight fist atop the table. She brought his hand up, unfurled his fingers, and then set his hand on her hair. He tentatively stroked through it once, a shocked expression covering his face now, too.

“Soft,” he appreciated. His voice sounded a bit thick this time.

“I think it was the unicorn hair that did it,” Lily explained.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Caden nodded. He continued pulling his fingers softly through it, his eyes watching the candlelight dancing off the golds and rubies.

“You’re a great loser, Caden, nothing like your parents. And when I beat you on Saturday, I’ll appreciate your graceful acceptance of it even more,” Lily said.

Caden gave her hair a light tug in response. They both smiled. 

“And what about you, Iset?” Ginny asked loudly, clearly a cue for Lily to stop blatantly flirting. “Did you have anything else you wanted to add?”

Iset hesitated. She glanced at Rose. Rose murmured something, Iset whispered something back, and then Rose nodded. Iset took a deep breath and glanced down at her hands.

“Well—for me—and I know it’s not…like this for everybody…I know that your childhood wasn’t like this, Scorpius…but…” she bit her lip uncertainly. She fiddled nervously. “When you’re raised by somebody who was…proud to have been involved with the Death Eaters…who took pride in the things he did…”

She was struggling so much that Scorpius felt uncomfortable for her. It was obvious she was trying to say something but was wary of saying too much.

“Your father took great joy in the Cruciatus,” Scorpius’s dad interrupted gently. “In our seventh year, when the Carrows were here and he got to practice it daily…it was the happiest I ever saw him. I don’t know if it was hurting people that he liked, or if it was just the fact that he was good at something and felt powerful for once, but he certainly did enjoy it.”

Something flashed behind Iset’s eyes, but it was gone before Scorpius could begin to put a name to it.

“I don’t think…I don’t think the craving for that sort of power could ever really go away,” she said quietly. “And that’s…that’s what I…that’s what it was like for me.”

It took everybody a minute to realize what she was really saying underneath her evasion and stumbling words. She was absolutely refusing to look at any of them.

“Iset,” Harry said gently. “Are you saying that your dad has used Unforgivables on you?”

She didn’t look up at them. “I don’t think he would ever stop wanting to exert power over the people in his control.”

“So that’s a yes? Iset, this is really serious. You can tell me the truth and I promise I won’t let him hurt you. Is that what you’re worried about? That he’ll hurt you?”

She dropped her hands down into her lap. She glanced nervously up at Harry.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she told him shakily.

“Iset, I can _help_ —!” Harry’s voice rose in volume, not out of anger, but out of urgency. Unfortunately, that did little to help matters. Iset flinched horribly.

“Uncle Harry, she said she doesn’t want to talk about it!” Rose snapped.

“I—okay, sorry, I just…” Harry looked bewildered and lost. He exchanged a look with Scorpius’s dad. Draco frowned back.

“Why don’t we talk about…something else?” Nora suggested.

“Yeah,” James agreed immediately. “Who’s coming to our Halloween party?”

They spent the rest of the allotted time talking half-heartedly about Halloween. When the discussion hour ended, Iset was the first to rise and hurry from the Great Hall. Evvie Wilson and Nora were up and after her in a second.

“What are they doing?” Rose demanded. “Iset doesn’t want to talk.”

“They’re doing their thing,” James said. “Let them. Nora can get anybody to talk. She’s amazing like that.”

Ben wrapped his arm around Rose’s shoulders, stopping her from storming after Iset and Evvie. Rose glared up at him.  

“It’ll be okay. Evvie deals with the most stubborn of all students on a daily basis; she knows what she’s doing.”

Rose pushed Ben’s arm off. “Iset isn’t _stubborn_ , Iset is _sensible_. You don’t know enough to understand the full picture.”

And with that, she took off after Iset, Nora, and Evvie. Ben and James exchanged a look.

“Should we follow?” James asked.

“Where else would we go?” Ben pointed out.

“Fair point.”

The two headed towards the door. Scorpius looked down at Albus.

“Well. I think we know why and how Iset knew so much about the Imperius Curse.”

Albus shook his head, his eyes still chained on the door. “Rose should’ve let Nora and Evvie talk some sense into her. She needs to tell my dad what’s going on.”

“Probably doesn’t trust him,” Scorpius commented. “If your dad used the Imperius Curse on you, would _you_ trust other dads? I don’t think I would.”

Albus frowned. “No. I wouldn’t. I would….honestly, I’d do what Lily did. I’d get my boyfriend and I’d teach myself how to fight it off.”

Scorpius imagined how frightening it would be to be under somebody else’s complete control.

“Maybe Lily had the right idea after all,” Scorpius admitted.

“I’ll _never_ admit that Lily was right…but I guess I do understand her.”

“We should tell her that.”

“What? No way. I’ve got a reputation as the hard brother to uphold.”

“Of course. Tough. Hard. You’re very…cold and removed.”

Albus grinned. “Becoming an honorary Potter has really done wonders for your sass, hasn’t it?”

Scorpius wanted to quip back, but he was too busy beaming at the words _honorary Potter_.

(He wouldn’t have minded being an actual Potter, but he’d never voice that aloud to anyone.)

* * *

 

Scorpius didn’t know what Evvie and Nora found out on Thursday night, but whatever it was made them take a special interest in Iset’s wellbeing. On Friday, after DADA, the two girls met Iset outside of the classroom. Scorpius watched the three walk off whispering, simultaneously relieved and worried all at once. He was glad that Evvie and Nora had gotten involved, but he was worried about Iset.

However, as Saturday drew nearer, his ability to think about anything but Quidditch dwindled. He wasn’t particularly competitive (and if he was being honest with himself, the idea of playing against James, Lily, Rose, and Roxanne was intimidating, to say the least), but the school was so keyed up that it was making Scorpius exceedingly nervous. The mixed-House table in the Great Hall quickly became a breeding ground for placing bets on Saturday’s match and engaging in rowdy arguments over which team had the best chances. Slughorn got so frustrated with the Gryffindors and Slytherins for their relentless and competitive bickering in double Potions on Friday that he cut the lesson a half-hour short and sent them all on their way. It should’ve been a relief to have that half-hour free, but it was marred by Rose joining them in the library just so she could ramble on about different techniques she’d been perfecting for the match.

“You better watch out,” she told Scorpius, her eyes twinkling. “We’re not going to go easy on you.”

“He’s not going to go easy on you, either!” Albus said, throwing his arm around Scorpius’s shoulder.

Scorpius knew his responding smile probably looked pained.

* * *

 

He woke up before dawn on the morning of the match. At first, he wasn’t sure what had woken him, but then he felt the shift of the mattress. He rolled over and squinted into the green-tinted darkness. Albus—clearly still asleep—fell down onto Scorpius’s bed and immediately kicked his way beneath the covers. He slid over until they were snuggled closely. Scorpius yawned. He reached up and set his palm on Albus’s warm cheek. He could feel creases on his skin from his wrinkled pillowcase. He gently stroked his thumb over Albus’s cheekbone as his own eyes drifted back shut again. He stretched his legs out, shifted closer, and pushed one of his legs between Albus’s.

No expecting an answer, he whispered aloud: “Why do you do this?”

Albus mumbled something incoherent. Scorpius moved his hand to Albus’s hair. He stroked his fingers through it as he struggled to count Albus’s light freckles in the darkness. One, two, three, four, five…

“I’m nervous,” Albus mumbled suddenly.

Scorpius had truly thought he was sleep-walking again, so he was a bit taken aback. His hand paused in Albus’s hair.

“Don’t stop,” Albus complained, his words slurred with sleep. Scorpius felt his heart swell. He quickly began stroking Albus’s hair again.

“About the match?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” Albus whispered back. “What if I can’t be good anymore?”

“You can always be good,” Scorpius reassured him. “It’s going to be great! Splendid! Magnificent! And, you know, if it isn’t, if it’s dreadful…well, I know where the Sevens stash firewhisky.”

It did what he’d been hoping it’d do: it made Albus laugh. His sleepy chuckles were some of Scorpius’s favorites. He smiled and admired the way Albus’s smile lit up his face, even half-asleep in a nearly-dark room. He shifted closer to Albus. His hand moved to the back of Albus’s head and cupped it. He brought his face towards Albus’s and kissed his lips gently. Warmth shot from the place their lips met and spread throughout Scorpius’s body. He couldn’t help but squirm in delight. And in their sleepy, vulnerable states, it was incredibly easy to get the words out; he was so bursting with affection and love that he was certain those three words were _all_ he’d be able to say.

“I love you,” he whispered. He rubbed his nose against Albus’s and pushed a hand up his pajama shirt. He rested his palm against the smooth skin of Albus’s back as he kissed him again.

“Even if I lose us the match?” Albus asked.

“Always.”

“Me too,” Albus smiled.

With his heart bursting with so much love that he felt he might burst open, Scorpius kissed Albus lazily until he eventually grew too tired to stay awake, and then he rested his cheek against Albus’s and drifted back off to sleep.

* * *

 

“All right,” Jacques Stinton said. He smoothed his Quidditch robes and readjusted his hold on his broomstick. Scorpius’s hands shook as he tried to pull on his gloves. Beside him, Albus was fumbling with his trousers. “Keep your wits about you. Remember our strategy. We need to score sixteen goals as quickly as possible, as well as a goal for every one Gryffindor manages to score.”

“I _hate_ playing Gryffindor,” Martes grumbled. “The entire match is a race against the Potter girl. How can she even catch the snitch with four eyes?”

Scorpius bristled. Albus stiffened at his side. But before they could do anything, Martes was smacked in the face with the end of Caden Rowle’s broom.

“Rowle!” Jacques scolded.

“What?” Caden shot back.

“Don’t smack your teammates in the face with your broom! I know you’re only thirteen, but please try to act less like a child!”

“I’m _fourteen_ now, and I was just trying to show him the benefits of ‘four eyes’, Captain. If he’d been wearing glasses, that wouldn’t have hurt.” Caden leaned towards Martes, who was rubbing his eyes hard. “Are your eyes watering, mate? Aw.”

Scorpius laughed quietly. Caden shot a brief smile his way. And Albus was back to fidgeting with his Quidditch trousers. Scorpius grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side as Jacques began lecturing the beaters, Avery and Nott.

“Remember, you won’t be able to intimidate Roxanne Weasley, so save that strategy for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw games…”

“What’s wrong?” Scorpius whispered. “Are they too loose?”

Albus had both hands down his trousers now. “No! It’s these sodding—fancy—French—pants!”

Scorpius collapsed into laughter, the complaint entirely unexpected. Albus glared.

“You never have any problem with them when _I’m_ wearing them,” Scorpius reminded him.

“Yeah, well, I decided you wear them better,” Albus said back. “They keep sliding about and it’s very distracting—oh, Merlin. Scorpius, I’m going to have to go without them.”

“Without them?!”

“Yes.”

“Can we _Accio_ your pants from the dorms?”

“And have them flying throughout the air?! I don’t think so! James has already got Avery’s strange underpants that Lily stole in case Avery makes him angry; we don’t need any more Slytherin underpants on the pitch!”

Jacques lecturing drifted back over to them as they mulled over Albus’s underwear situation.

“And for the love of Merlin and all the Muggle Gods, do _not_ aim a Bludger at Nora Thomas or Lily Potter! I don’t care if Lily Potter is inches from the Snitch and Thomas has scored thirty goals; it is _not worth it_! Don’t forget what happens when you do, you’ll have to deal with James for the entire game and nothing will get accomplished—”

“Right,” Albus hissed. “I’m going bare.”

Scorpius bit his lip. “I have to admit I’ve had a dream very similar to this. But in the dream, we didn’t play the match.”

Albus patted Scorpius’s cheek. He looked a bit woozy. “There’s still a chance I won’t…c’mon.”

Scorpius snuck into the changing stall with Albus. He held Albus’s shoes as he fought his way from the form-fitting Quidditch trousers. Scorpius felt his heart jam at the sight of Albus in his borrowed pants.

“We have to play the match, we have to play the match, we have to play the match…” he chanted to himself, struggling to control the lust that was threatening to overtake him. Albus gave him a smirk that did nothing to help matters.

“Lesson learned. Don’t steal your boyfriend’s strange pants before a Quidditch match.”

“An enjoyable lesson for those who are watching: me,” Scorpius teased. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Your Quidditch trousers look better this way, anyway.”

“You’re so ridiculous.”

Scorpius put his finger into the air. “The _most_ ridiculous!”

“ _Potter! Malfoy!”_ Jacques yelled.

“Oops,” Scorpius said.

They rejoined the team. Avery was looking at them like he’d smelled something particularly disgusting. Scorpius avoided his gaze.

“Scorpius,” Jacques said. “It’s your first game against Gryffindor, so don’t worry too much about intercepting every goal—just try to catch the majority and hopefully we can score enough to counter it, okay?”

Scorpius was beginning to get the feeling that Jacques had no faith in him. With a rush of anxiety, he remembered Nora’s joking statement about how every other Slytherin Keeper had been chased off by the Gryffindor team. He’d thought she was teasing, but…why _had_ there been no other Slytherins going for Keeper?

“All right. It’s time,” Jacques said. At once, players headed towards the locker room doors. As soon as it opened even a centimeter, Scorpius could hear the shrieking crowds. And all at once, he was certain he couldn’t do it.

“Oh no,” Scorpius whispered frantically. He grabbed onto Albus’s hand and squeezed his fingers tightly. “Oh no, oh no, oh no—”

“It’s going to be okay—”

“No, it won’t, I’m going to let everyone down, I’m going to embarrass my dad, oh no—”

Albus shot a quick look around them, and once he’d determined nobody was watching, he tugged Scorpius over to him. Scorpius was breathing shallowly through his parted lips when Albus leaned up and kissed him, taking him off guard for a moment. Albus chased Scorpius’s evading eyes until they were looking at each other. Scorpius found himself simmering underneath the heat of Albus’s intense eyes. Albus took their still-joined hands and guided Scorpius’s hand over, resting it boldly on his bum.

“Oh,” Scorpius squeaked, his cheeks flushing. “Albus, is this _really_ the moment—”

“No,” Albus said. “After the match is. Focus on that. Deep breaths. So we might horribly embarrass our families…who cares? What’s new? We can celebrate together afterwards—win or lose, just us, losers united.”

Scorpius had a fairly good idea what Albus meant by _celebrating_. And he did find _celebrating_ exceedingly lovely in every possible way. And it was also true that it would probably be a reward so great that it could even make up for public embarrassment…

“Okay. We can do this. We’re…going to do this. Even if we can’t. We have to do this.”

“That’s…sort of the spirit,” Albus agreed.

And before Scorpius could be crushed by another wave of self-doubt, Albus grabbed his broom, handed Scorpius’s his, and pushed him through the locker room doors and out onto the pitch.

The sun was so dazzling and unforgiving that Scorpius almost wished for rain. He knew visibility would be difficult if not painful; there were only a few fluffy white clouds in the skin, which meant they had little chance for reprieve. He squinted up at the goal hoops, hoping to discern whether or not the sun would be directly in his eyes, but when he almost tripped over his own feet, he decided his focus would be better spent watching his every step.

“An exciting match on this unusually sunny Saturday!” called commentator Zola Burke. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin to open up our late-starting season!”

“Yes, or as I like to call it, Potter versus Potter,” responded co-commentator Nolan Carmichael. “An interesting match ahead of us today with four out of seven Gryffindor players being Weasleys, and two of those being Potters—”

“And, joining Slytherin team for the first time, Albus Potter. Alongside Scorpius Malfoy acting as Keeper and Caden Rowle as Seeker,” Zola Burke added.

“Here in the stands, we’re wondering who will be struggling more during this match: Slytherin team or referee Ginny Potter, who must be feeling stressed by the pressure to remain impartial and not share with the entire school through her actions which child is her fav— sorry, Professor, okay! Sorry!” There was the sound of muffled argument, and then: “I would like to apologize to referee Ginny Potter.”

Laughter erupted between shrieks and hoots. Scorpius and Albus joined their team and stood at the back. Jacques and James shook hands warmly.

“Stinton and Potter J sharing a warm handshake at the start of the match as Potter J exemplifies why he was chosen for Captain – Chaser Ben Wood, of course, was slated for that position, but was ultimately reconsidered after the fight during the final match last year. Could be worse, though— Carrow saw the business end of a lifelong ban— interestingly enough, Roxanne Weasley was allowed back on the team after her dodgy choice of retaliation during that spat—”

The sound of the whistle made Scorpius’s stomach plummet. He stood frozen as everybody shot up into the air around him. After an embarrassing moment of frozen panic, he forced himself to mount his broom and kick off.

“And they’re off! Keepers Malfoy and Macmillan speeding towards their hoops—Chasers getting into position—here come the balls!”

The sensation of the biting autumn wind against Scorpius’s blushing face was a relief. He came to a stop in front of the center hoop. Like he’d suspected, the sun was set to be a nuisance. He could already feel a headache forming from keeping his eyes squinted against the glare. He took a deep breath and surveyed the pitch.

“Immediate possession by Slytherin Chaser Martes, he passes to Potter A, Potter A speeds towards Macmillan—interesting to note that neither Potter J nor Weasley have hit a Bludger towards Potter A yet when they usually don’t let Chasers this close to scoring this early in the match; it’s possible that family ties are tainting their gameplay—looks like Gryffindor Chasers Thomas and Granger-Weasley are attempting a winged interception—it was a success! Potter A drops the Quaffle, Thomas is in possession—a fabulous Chaser, but that’s no surprise—everybody knows how the Potter men love Chasers. Many of us have eagerly anticipated seeing if Potter A exhibits any inherited Chasing skills and I must say, despite the interception, what we’ve seen thus far is promising—”

The commentary became an indistinguishable buzz to Scorpius as Nora came into view, Quaffle tucked beneath her arm. Scorpius flew to the right as she went towards that goal. She stopped. She gave him a soft, almost mollifying smile.

“Hi, Scorpius,” she greeted gently.

He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Hi, Nora,” he said back.

“No hard feelings, all right? I’ll buy you a butterbeer next Hogsmeade trip.”

Scorpius furrowed his brow. “No hard feelings for what?”

She smiled, held his gaze long enough to catch him off guard, and then snapped her head towards the left goal. Scorpius yelped and flew towards it immediately; he just made it to it right as she…threw the Quaffle through the right goal, her eyes still pinned on the left.

“ _Nora_!” Scorpius yelled. “How could you?!”

She curved each of her hands into what looked like the letter C and then brought them together, making what was clearly a heart.

“That doesn’t forgive your trickery!” Scorpius said, astounded.

“And that’s Gryffindor ten to zero! Martes snags the Quaffle after Thomas’s goal, _ohhh_ bad luck; Martes drops it after a well-aimed Bludger from Potter J—”

“Interesting to note once again that both teams’ Beaters are rather subdued today in comparison to last year; Potter J and Weasley seem reluctant to hit Potter A, most likely due to his recent brush with death, and Beaters Avery and Nott appear to be sticking to their Thomas and Potter L Ban after the grizzly match last year when their aggressive techniques sent Thomas and Potter L to the Hospital Wing and Potter J into a vengeful fury—”

“It was the first time many of us have seen a Beater decide to go after the other team’s Beaters exclusively and many of us still cringe at the sight of Beater’s bats from time to time—absolutely brutal match—oh, Granger-Weasley with the Quaffle, she’s speeding down the pitch, Potter J deflects the Bludger sent by Nott…”

Scorpius prepared himself as Rose drew nearer and nearer. He had learned his lesson now; no niceties, no small talk. For the rest of this match, these weren’t his friends. He was ready to take Rose on, but Albus came up from what seemed like nowhere and flew directly in front of Rose, so suddenly and so last minute that she had no option but to dive directly down to avoid a collision.

“And that’s Potter A pulling one of his mother’s signature moves—Granger-Weasley fumbles with the Quaffle as she tries to pull out of her sharp dive—Potter A with the Quaffle!”

“Yes!” Scorpius cheered. He squinted harder against the blinding sun and tried to watch what was happening. Albus zipping through players…Albus avoiding a reluctant Bludger from James…Albus taking his shot… “YES!”

“That’s ten to ten as Potter A scores Slytherin’s first goal of the match! Not bad timing, either, Slytherin needs to quickly gain those points as the search for the snitch continues…new Slytherin Seeker Rowle appears to be relaxing near the clouds, not sure if he’s even looking for anything at all…Potter L is doing her signature prowling around the pitch, no sight of the Snitch yet, but Slytherin needs to— _OI!_ Brutal Bludger sent close-range towards Thomas’s head, looks like Avery’s not playing by Stinton’s strategies any longer—Potter J leaps in front of it…. _OH_!”

The sun had moved into Scorpius’s line of vision, so he couldn’t see what happened, but he heard the horrifying _smack_. Urgent whistling followed from the ground.

“Potter J’s bat snaps _in half_ from the force of the full-on hit! He’s lucky it was the bat and not his ribs or head! He was nearly knocked from his broom, but Thomas flew up behind him and caught him before he tumbled backwards, and Ginny Potter has signaled a foul for Avery’s malicious Bludger, though the fact that her son nearly took a bat-snapping blow to the chest might possibly be influencing her anger—”

Scorpius dared to fly a bit lower so that the sun was partially blocked by one of the spectators’ stands. He watched as Nora, James, Jacques, and Cyprus Avery landed in front of Ginny. There was furious gesturing, what looked like shouting, and it cumulated with Ginny awarding Gryffindor a penalty shot, much to the outrage of Avery. Scorpius took advantage of the continued distraction and turned his eyes to the staff stand. There were the commentators, the Headmistress, Harry—

Scorpius grinned. His dad, sitting somewhat uncomfortably between Harry and Hermione, squinting down at the commotion with his lips pursed into a thin line. Scorpius fought back the childish urge to wave his hands in the air and yell _‘Dad! Dad! Hi!’._

“Looks as if the argument has finished up. Players are back in the air…the Gryffindor Captain is discussing which Chaser will take the penalty shot…Wood is given the Quaffle!”

Scorpius flew back up in front of the goals. As Ben drew nearer, Scorpius wrestled with what to do. His heart was telling him to do the moral thing and let Ben have the shot—because Avery should not have been as aggressive as he was—but his pride was telling him to block it. His dad was watching. He wanted his dad to see him do a good job. But he didn’t want Nora or James to think he didn’t stand by them—because he did. He did stand by them. He would always—

For better or for worse, he acted on instinct. Ben threw the Quaffle hard, pulling Scorpius roughly from his inner debate, and Scorpius felt himself throw his body forward on his broom in order to zoom over into the Quaffle’s path. He caught it by the tips of his fingers. Afterwards, he was so stunned to find himself holding the Quaffle that he hardly heard the cheers of his teammates.

“Malfoy catches the Quaffle—that’s that!”

Scorpius risked sinking down low again, so the sun was less of a vision hindrance. He sought his dad out. He was cheering loudly (along with Harry!). Scorpius beamed.

“Nice save!” Ben yelled over his shoulder.  

He was vaguely aware that Ben might have _let_ him intercept the shot because he was one of ‘Evvie’s Slytherins’, but Scorpius still beamed in response. Ben was long gone, but he still yelled back towards him: “Really? Thanks!”

The game seemed to speed up after that point. It got very intense very quickly. James and Roxanne seemed to be more focused on deflecting Nott and Avery’s Bludgers than going after the Slytherin Chasers actually making goals. After a Bludger nearly knocked Ben from his broom (he had to flatten himself to it to keep from taking a hit to his face), James gave up every pretense of actually trying to win, and decided trailing after the Slytherin Beaters to intercede every single Bludger was the better move. And it may’ve been for the wellbeing of his teammates, but it certainly wasn’t for their score. Albus and Stinton took advantage of the Gryffindor team’s frustrations and scored goal after goal. Nora and Ben scored one a piece, but Avery and Nott’s brutal Beating was making it near suicidal to venture towards the Slytherin’s side—even with James and Roxanne tirelessly deflecting.

“Some absolutely hostile Beating happening here, the sort that would be well-suited in a professional match,” Zola Burke commented. “Avery and Nott have managed to take near complete control over their side of the pitch with little regard to human safety; the Gryffindor Chasers can’t get close enough to even hope to make a goal. With the score at 180 to 30, Gryffindor needs another goal and the Snitch if they have any hope of winning this match, or the Gryffindor Beaters are going to have to abandon the defense and retake offense. A few Bludgers towards Stinton and Potter A would significantly change the tide of the match, leaving all of us wondering what Potter J and Weasley are waiting for…”

Suddenly, a red blur shot past Scorpius so quickly that his robes billowed up. Scorpius followed Lily’s zooming motion around the pitch with a sinking heart. Well, so much for winning. 

“POTTER L HAS SEEN THE SNITCH!” Nolan Carmichael cried. “She’s on the trail! Rowle finally stopped cloud gazing and has set off in her path! Down she weaves—bit sharp left there—her hand is outstretched—Nott is aiming a hit—Potter J is trying to fly in front of her but it doesn’t appear that he’ll make it in time— _oooh_!” A sharp intake of breath seemed to spread around the entire pitch. “Nott sends a well-timed Bludger Potter L’s way and it slams right into her outstretched arm, absolutely shattering it, sending her corkscrewing through the air—”

Scorpius forewent all pretenses of actually playing his position for a moment. He lowered back down and scanned the pitch. Lily was gripping her broom with one hand, her other arm held awkwardly at her side. It was clearly broken, and she was visibly grimacing and was possibly crying, but her eyes were still locked in on something…

“I think she’s still got the Snitch in sight!” cried Burke.

Scorpius, like everybody else, was watching in mute trepidation as Lily continued her chase. Rowle was right behind her now, urging his broom further; he was flattened to it in his quest to gain on Lily. Lily’s hair whipped wildly behind her. Scorpius caught the glint of gold in front of Lily and realized, with a sickening jump to his heart, that the Snitch was _right there_ ….and that Lily would have to take her hand off the broom to catch it.

The entire pitch realized that at the same moment Scorpius did. There were worried cries as she tightened her thighs around the broom and pulled her good hand off of it, leaving her flying without hands. She swayed alarmingly at the waist due to her eye-watering speed. She tried to use her injured arm to hold on, but quickly took weight off it seconds later. She’d rounded the pitch and she was flying closer and closer to Scorpius now. He could make out the determined furrow of her brow above her glinting glasses. She straightened her back, tightened her legs again, and reached her good hand back out towards the Snitch. Rowle gained a few crucial feet and came up beside her. Lily glanced at him, taking her eyes off the Snitch. Her body swayed alarmingly. She looked from Caden, to the Snitch, back to Caden—

“Did he just…!” Zola Burke broke off, incredulous. “AND THAT’S 190 – 30 AS POTTER A TAKES MACMILLAN OFF GUARD WITH A GOAL AS POTTER L NARROWS IN ON THE SNITCH—”

“NO!” Nolan Carmichael cried. “If Potter L catches the Snitch now, Gryffindor will lose by _ten points_!”

But Scorpius doubted Lily even heard them. She was so intent on catching the snitch before Caden that she was inching forward on her broom, her arm still extended, her broken one still clutched to her body. But it wasn’t enough. Her unsteadiness was making her flight path a bit shaky, and that was slowing her down just enough to give Caden the upper hand. He was going to bypass her at any moment—

Scorpius let out a shriek that the entire pitch seemed to echo. His heart plunged.

“POTTER L LITERALLY THROWS HERSELF FROM HER BROOM MID-AIR LIKE AN UTTER MADMAN—SHE’S GOING TO HIT THE GROUND—GINNY POTTER IS SHOOTING THROUGH THE AIR—OH! THOMAS CATCHES POTTER L ONLY A FEW FEET FROM THE GROUND AND—UNBELIEVABLE!”

Excited cries echoed, but they weren’t coming from the Gryffindors. Lily was leaning weakly against Nora’s chest, the struggling Snitch held firmly in her upheld fist. She was beaming. Nora was not.

“POTTER L HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, BUT SLYTHERIN WINS 190 – 180! Oh, that’s absolute—” Nolan Carmichael broke off into vehement swearing.

Scorpius ignored his airborne, cheering teammates and dove straight for the ground. He spotted Albus doing the same from the corner of his eye.

“Magnificent example of hubris here today—we’ll certainly be talking about this match all season,” Zola Burke said, indifferent to Nolan Carmichael’s nearby cursing.

Scorpius landed a bit too hard. His arches expanded painfully. He stumbled and nearly toppled forward. As soon as he’d righted himself, he darted over towards where Lily was. She was draped across Nora’s lap, gripping her broken arm and moaning what sounded like _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ —

“Lily!” Ginny shouted. She dropped from her broom before she’d even landed, landing hard on her feet as Scorpius had done. She fell down onto her knees beside Nora and Lily and reached out, but she didn’t need to touch Lily’s arm to tell anything. It was clear that it was broken from the puffy, swollen skin and peculiar angle. Scorpius hurried over and sank down beside Ginny. He vaguely registered James and Albus joining them.

“What were you _thinking_?!” James yelled.

“ _Fuckfuckfuckfuck—_ I didn’t _—fuckfuckfuck—_ know that Al scored again! _”_ Lily shot back through gritted teeth.

“Is it broken?” Albus asked. He leaned over Lily and poked her swollen arm. She let out an almighty shriek. “Yeah, it’s broken.”

“YEAH?!” she shouted in his face, her eyes streaming. “REALLY?”

“I WAS NOT TALKING ABOUT THE SCORE, LILY!” James fumed. “You can’t play Catapult Lily during a _real_ Quidditch match! And you especially can’t play that without warning Nora and me ahead of time that we’re playing! What if she’d been further away and hadn’t caught you?!”

“I—knew she’d catch me,” Lily choked out between whimpers. She caught sight of something over Scorpius’s shoulder. Her face opened with relief and hope. “Dad!”

“LULU!” Harry fell to his knees a bit early and went literally sliding across the grass, probably hard enough to give himself friction burns. Lily collapsed into his opened arms at once. He smoothed her hair. “Are you okay?”

“ _Nooo_ ,” Lily moaned pitifully into Harry’s shoulder. Ginny shook her head and mimed snapping something to inform Harry that Lily’s arm was indeed broken.

“Where’s Madam Pomfrey?!” Scorpius worried. He looked around for her, but he didn’t see her. Instead, he spotted Caden’s blond head weaving towards them.

“That was brilliant,” Caden greeted. He stopped in front of Harry and Lily. Lily leaned back and looked up at Caden, her face hard and threatening. His smirk didn’t waver. “I think I developed about three more crushes on you just from watching it. Daring, provocative, _and_ my team still won—how do you do it?”

“Get out of here!” Harry roared at once. He tightened his arm around Lily protectively. “Not the time, Rowle! She’s _INJURED_! Flirt later!”

“Fine, fine, injured, right…I’ll go and get chocolates,” Caden said.

“Ooh, yeah, get me some chocolate,” Lily agreed, between groans of pain. Caden shook his head and walked off snickering.  

“Scorpius, you can fix her!” Albus said suddenly.

Scorpius shook his head. “No, no, no no no—”

“You can! You’ve mended a bone before!”

“A _finger_!” Scorpius squeaked.

“So an arm’s like a really big finger!”

“No, Albus, it’s not!”

“ _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—_ ”

“Where the hell is Madam Pomfrey?!” Ginny exploded. She looked around them. “Did anybody even think to send for her?! James! Nora! Will you go figure out where she is?”

“Yes, on it!”

Albus was still on the a-finger-is-like-an-arm argument.

“It is like a finger, it’s…bendy!” Albus persisted. He lifted his index finger and bent it at the middle knuckle. He lifted his arm and bent it at his elbow. “See?”

Scorpius was overcome with mind-shrinking anxiety at even the thought of trying the bone mending spell on a major bone for the first time on _Lily Potter_.

“No, I do not see! An arm is an arm, a finger is a finger, a head is a head, a neck is a neck, a penis is a penis—!” Scorpius halted his anxious explosion a few seconds too late. _Oh no._

“ _Whoa_!” Lily shrieked. She clapped her good hand over one of her ears. “Whoa! I’M THIRTEEN! NO PENISES!”

Scorpius shot a horrified look at the Potter parents, but Harry was too busy looking proudly at Lily to notice Scorpius’s slip up, and Ginny looked like she was genuinely considering mending Lily’s arm herself. She was murmuring underneath her breath and staring hard at Lily’s arm, her wand in hand.

“SORRY!” Scorpius blurted loudly.

“I never said a penis is like a finger, Scorpius,” Albus defended. “Of course it’s not.”

“We do _not_ need another visual example!” Lily warned. She hissed as Ginny gently lifted her broken arm. “Owwww, ow, ow! Merlin’s shitty cat— _OW, MUM!”_

“WOULD YOU ALL JUST CALM DOWN?!” Ginny finally shouted. It was loud enough that it got everybody’s attention. All eyes landed on Ginny. “Thank you! I can’t think straight with you lot shrieking and swearing and bickering about penises— _ferula_.”

Scorpius watched as bandages appeared out of thin air and magically secured Lily’s broken arm to a splint.

“A bit better?” Ginny asked.

Lily sniffed and nodded. “Yeah.”

Ginny reached forward and gently wiped the tears from Lily’s face. Scorpius felt a severe, sickening surge of longing for home and his mum. But he had to push that thought away (he was always pushing it away). There would be no end to it.

“One of us could probably mend it,” Harry said to Ginny, his arm still tightly around Lily, “but maybe we should wait for Pomfrey.”

“We _are_ waiting for Pomfrey!” Lily said sharply. “This is my Snitch arm! I can’t risk losing all my bones!”

 “Your dad and I wouldn’t vanish your bones, we’re not _Lockhart_ ,” Ginny scoffed. But she made no move to try and mend Lily’s arm, either. “I suppose we could start walking towards the Hospital Wing, we’re bound to cross paths with her…”

They all began clambering to their feet, but it was unnecessary. A moment later, James and Nora came sprinting towards them, Pomfrey in tow. As Scorpius turned back around to glance at Lily, he spotted white-blond hair. He turned back around and scanned his eyes in the same direction. His dad was standing on the edges of the pitch with Hermione, both talking quietly together, their worried eyes directed on the grass. If they were worried about Lily, why weren’t they over here seeing how she was?

Scorpius nudged Albus.

“Look,” he said.

While Pomfrey tended to Lily, Scorpius pointed towards his dad and Albus’s aunt.

“They look upset,” Albus noted.

“Yeah, I thought so, too. About Lily?”

“No way. They’ve both seen way worse than a broken arm,” Albus said. “Let’s go ask.”

“They won’t tell us. They never tell us anything anymore,” Scorpius complained. But Albus tugged on his arm and pulled him over to Hermione and Draco, anyway. Scorpius noticed his gait seemed even stronger today; soon he’d been completely better, and that thought made Scorpius have to bite back a grin (he didn’t think it’d look good to onlookers if he was beaming while Lily Potter was injured).

“Hi, Aunt Hermione,” Albus greeted. “Hi, Draco.”

They stopped speaking at once. They straightened and looked to Scorpius and Albus.

“Hello boys,” Hermione greeted.

Scorpius’s dad stepped forward. With a smile, he opened his arms questioningly, clearly unsure whether a brief hug would be okay with Scorpius while they were in front of all his classmates. Scorpius answered the unspoken question by stepping into his dad’s arms and hugging him tightly.

And then:

“I’m so proud of you,” his dad said quietly.

Scorpius felt his heart widen so much that it felt like it might burst up his throat. He didn’t let go of his dad until he was certain he wouldn’t tear up.

“Did you see Albus?” he asked Draco, once he’d stepped back. “Sneaking in that goal, I’ll bet all the Slytherins are so….happy.”

He ended his sentence on a weaker note, because it’d just occurred to him that this would _not_ do much to discourage all the girls who’d developed crushes on _the Boy Who Survived_.

“It was great, Albus,” Draco said. Scorpius glanced to Albus; he’d smiled in response to Draco’s compliment. “But the Gryffindors are going to want your head, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Albus assured him. “I don’t care.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “No?”

“No. I’ve already died. What else could they do to me?” Albus said.

Scorpius’s dad smiled, but it was a sort of strained smile. For a moment, he was looking at Albus like he was seeing somebody completely different.

“You’re a lot like your dad,” he told Albus finally. “In more than just looks.”

Albus sighed, but he still had a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I’m told.”

Albus turned his focus towards harassing Hermione for information, but Scorpius was still watching his dad. Judging by the soft, concerned way he was watching Albus, Scorpius guessed that, in his dad’s mind, being a lot like Harry wasn’t necessary a great thing.

* * *

 

The Gryffindors, as it turned out, didn’t want Albus’s head. They wanted the Gryffindor Keeper’s. Scorpius was certain they wouldn’t have been that logical about it had it been any Slytherin but the Potter Slytherin that had made the goal. He couldn’t see them easily forgiving it if it’d been Martes; he’d have been burned at the stake by the Gryffindors even _if_ the fault did rest on Macmillan’s shoulders.

“Nice goal,” a passing Gryffindor told Albus. “Don’t know _what_ Macmillan was thinking, not watching the goals with the score so close…” he walked off shaking his head and murmuring underneath his breath.

“What _was_ Mel doing?” Lily demanded. He, Albus, and James were walking her back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Ginny accompanying them.

“Watching you! Everybody was,” Albus answered. “The only reason I managed to make the goal was because I’m used to it. Wasn’t shocking to me; you throw yourself off your broom all the time at home. I knew Nora would catch you.”

Lily reached out and smacked James’s stomach with her newly-mended arm. “See, James?! Even Albus knew Nora would catch me!”

“I’m not arguing about this again! If you do it again, I’ll kick you from the team, and that’s that,” James said stubbornly. “But…it was a _great_ catch.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harry agreed enthusiastically. “I really didn’t think she’d caught it at first, but then when she lifted it up after Nora caught her—brilliant!”

“A brilliant and unrelenting Seeker through-and-through,” Ginny smiled. “That one is all you, Harry.”

“Gin, do you even remember your 2000 match against Puddlemere? Because I don’t think that Puddlemere Chaser ever forgot. In fact, I think he’s still got a limp…”

“He does not!” Ginny argued immediately. “And I’m not saying I didn’t pass any gritty Quidditch skills down to our kids. _I’m_ saying I passed them _this way_ ,” she reached out and wrapped her arms around Albus, dragging him half-protesting and half-smiling into her embrace. “I was never much of a Seeker, but did you _see_ our son?! Did you _see_ that final shot?!”

Harry smiled at Albus. “It was wonderful, Al!”

“Thanks,” he said quickly, obviously eager to get off the topic. Ginny was still hugging him tightly, her pride thick in the air. “Mum, come on, it wasn’t _that_ great.”

“It _was_ that great! Are you thinking of playing professionally?”

“I’m really just thinking about eating dinner and going to bed.”

“That’s fair,” Harry nodded.

They resumed their walk in unusual silence. It didn’t last long.

“ _Do_ penises have bones?” Lily asked.

Scorpius stumbled. James burst into hysterical laughter.

“ _Lily_!” Albus blurted, horrified.

Lily was thinking hard. “I don’t think they do.”

James had to stop walking. He doubled over at the waist as he howled with laughter. Ginny and Harry looked at each other.

“I’m not answering that,” they said in unison.

“Damn,” Harry whispered.

“Bollocks,” Ginny said. “One of us has to.”

“Do we? Do we have to?” Harry wondered.

“I…I _think_ so…” Ginny said, but she sounded less sure.

“Like, can you break them like a bone? You’ve got joints in your fingers and arms, right? They don’t have joints,” Lily said.

“No. They don’t have joints,” Ginny said. “No bones. Who do I need to thank for bringing this topic up?

“Scorpius,” Albus and Lily said in unison.

Scorpius opened and closed his mouth wordlessly.

_“_ Traitor!” is all he managed to blurt. It was directed at Albus.

“I sincerely thank you, Scorpius,” Ginny said dryly.                     

“Sorry, it just…slipped out with my list of body parts…I was flustered…” he admitted. _And maybe thinking about my and Albus’s original plans for after the match which might have…included…that…body part…_

He was worried she was genuinely angry, but then he caught her struggling to fight back her own laughter.

“But you _can_ break it,” Lily persisted, refusing to let the subject have a quiet, respectful death. “And how can you do that if there’s no bone? No offense, Mum, but you haven’t even got one, so you can’t really know for sure.”

“I promise that I _can_ know for sure despite that fact,” she said flatly. “I know what I’m talking about.”

“Ew,” Albus complained. “Mum!!”

“What?! The existence of you three is evidence in itself!” 

“Ugh, gross— now I have to hate my entire existence, thanks a lot, Mum.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Lily, who told you that you can…break it?” Harry asked sharply. “Who’s been talking about this? You’re too young to talk about…this.”

“Well, Aster got angry with Quinton and said—”

“You know, I changed my mind, I actually don’t need to know,” Harry said quickly, a grimace in place.

James fell against the wall. He pressed a hand over his stomach. It probably _was_ sore from how hard he was laughing.  

“You—go on without me,” he gasped out through his laughter. “I’ve got to—find Nora—tell her she missed—the best Potter family discussion of all time.”

He staggered off, still in stitches.

“IT’S NOT NICE TO LAUGH AT PEOPLE,” Lily yelled after him. “I HOPE YOU BREAK _YOURS_ , IDIOT! GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR TWELVE BABIES AFTER THAT!”

That only made him laugh harder.

To Scorpius’s deep horror, Lily directed her next question to him, as if he were the ultimate expert.

“Can that not happen?” she wondered.

“Er…” Scorpius squeaked. “Erm…”

(Meanwhile, the Potter parents had fallen a few paces behind, and were arguing:

“I thought you gave her the talk, Gin!”

“I did give her the talk! The third year talk about puberty! But, for obvious reasons, we focused on the female body!”

“Right…okay. So here’s what we’ll do: the bravest one of us will give her a slightly more detailed talk but not the _full blown_ ‘Talk’.”

“Good idea,” Ginny said. “Good luck!”

“What?! No! I meant _you_!” Harry hissed.

“Me?! You said the bravest! You literally killed a murderous dictator!”

“So?! You always got back on your broom only a day after childbirth, and if _that’s_ not bravery, I don’t know what is!”

A pause. A pained intake of breath, as if even the memory still hurt.

“…Merlin, you’re absolutely right,” Ginny muttered.

“Yeah, blimey, I know,” Harry agreed. It sounded like he was wincing too, and his voice sounded a bit distant as if he too were remembering a specific memory.)

“Lily,” Ginny called, interrupting Scorpius’s ongoing stuttering. She walked up and stepped between Lily and Scorpius. “Let’s go have tea and a chat.”

“Okay,” Lily agreed easily. “Let me just tell my friends that I’ll be back for the party later.”

“Party? You lost,” Albus reminded her.

“We party anyway. Wouldn’t want James’s contraband to go to waste.”

“You are aware that I’m your Head of House, right?” Harry reminded her with a sigh.

“…Educational contraband,” Lily amended, her tone drenched in false innocence. “Muggle pens and…calculating alligators.”

“Lily, Dudley’s son was teasing you; they’re not actually called—”

Harry’s sentence died prematurely. Scorpius curiously looked at him and then traced the path of his glance. Caden Rowle waved from beside the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“Is your arm better?” Caden called.  

“No,” Lily said. “I had to have it amputated.”

Caden scowled. Lily scowled back. They made a rude hand gesture at each other at the same exact moment, and then, as if nothing had happened, Caden held up the box in his hands.

“Chocolates?” he offered.

Lily increased her speed and outpaced her family and Scorpius, so she reached Caden before them. He opened the top of the box. It was quiet for a moment, and then:

“Where did you get chocolates with _lilies_ on them?” Lily demanded.

“House elf insisted. She used frosting to make them all,” he answered shortly.

Lily still hadn’t taken the box. She was eying Caden cautiously, as if he might start serenading her at any moment. “Gross, Caden. What’s next, a poem?”

He shoved the box into her arms. “The rose is red, violets are blue, you’re named after a flower, I hope you haven’t got the flu. Take the damn chocolates.”

“That was _rubbish_ ,” Lily said, but she accepted the box and popped a chocolate into her mouth anyway. She held the box out towards him a moment later. He wordlessly took a piece of chocolate. “Lilies. Of all the soppy rubbish…it’ll be a miracle if I can hold these down.” 

“Hilarious,” he said. “I would’ve made a card that said ‘I’m sorry you’re a loser’, but I couldn’t find my craft inks.”

“Rude! Maybe you left them wherever you left your Quidditch skills this match? Up in the clouds or…who knows, really.”

“Nasty,” Caden appreciated. “Nice to see you’ve still got your cheek even if you’ve lost your mind.”

Lily popped another chocolate into her mouth. “Want to go sneak into the Ravenclaw Tower and see how long it takes anybody to notice?”

“Okay,” he agreed. “But bring those chocolates.”

“No, Lily,” Harry said tiredly, before she could even take a step. “No Ravenclaw Tower.”

She frowned. “Hufflepuff Basement?”

“No.”

“Slytherin Dungeon?”

“No.”

“Well where _can_ I go?” she demanded.

“Places you’re allowed to be!” Harry said.

“These limitations are _insane_. Fine. Want to go sit under the beech tree, Caden?”

“Yeah, all right,” he shrugged.

Harry didn’t look very comfortable with Lily leaving. As she and Caden were walking away, she whispered something to Rowle that made his cheeks pink at once.

“What?!” Caden yelped.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry groaned, horrified. “What did she just ask him?! I’m going to chaperone.”

“No, Harry—”

Harry interrupted Ginny. The words sped from his lips as he hurried away.

“Too late. Can’t hear you. Already over there.”

“No…you’re not! You’re literally only a few steps away! _Get back here, Harry_ —!”

Albus and Scorpius were left standing alone as Harry followed after Lily and Caden and Ginny followed after Harry. Scorpius looked down at Albus. Albus looked up at him.

“What a mess, honestly,” Albus said. “Want to go steal food from the kitchens and hide in the Room of Requirement for the rest of the day? All the Sevens will probably be at James’s party, and even if they’re not, we can just ask the room for a separate bedroom that locks.”

Scorpius set off down the corridor immediately.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” Albus snorted.

“This is an _empathic yes_ ,” Scorpius clarified.

“Well wait for me, you can’t do much without me anyway—oi, I’m still a bit crippled, you know—”

“Sorry! Right!” Scorpius felt his cheeks heat up. “Just excited.”

He doubled back, wrapped his arm around Albus’s waist, and then jumped as Albus had the audacity to  
“accidentally” grab a bit lower than necessary as he looped his arm around Scorpius’s lower back.

“Naughty!” Scorpius admonished.

“I’m just getting started.”

It would be Flirty Albus for the next few hours, then. Scorpius felt happier about that than he did their Quidditch win.

* * *

 

They were reading together on a massive bed, provided thoughtfully by the Room of Requirement. Or rather—Scorpius was reading _Neurosurgery: The Essential Handbook_ aloud while Albus dozed across his chest. Scorpius sank easily into the sharp, technical words of his book as he relished in the warmth of Albus’s skin, the beating of his peculiar heart, the tickle of his hair against Scorpius’s chest. Something about the contrast between his clinical book and the intimacy of Albus draped over his heart made Scorpius feel oddly content. He could’ve stayed there all day long, and he planned on it. But unfortunately for the both of them, the Sevens returned to their headquarters unexpectedly.

“They’re back,” Scorpius complained.

“So?” Albus mumbled. “Our door’s locked.”

“They’re going to wonder where this random door came from and who’s inside of it.”

“Let them worry,” Albus dismissed.  

Scorpius watched him drift back off. He lifted his book back up after a moment of hesitation. _The adrenal cortex—_

“What were you _thinking_ , James?” demanded Ginny. The words were distant enough that Scorpius could tell they’d probably only just stepped into the Room of Requirement. A cacophony of giggling and chatting followed afterwards, suggesting to Scorpius that all the Sevens were back.

“I was _thinking_ ,” James began, his words slurred. “That losing doesn’t mean you can’t party!”

“Yeah!!” Roxanne agreed.

“And we had too much firewhisky—”

“So much…” groaned Louis.

“It would be a _wasteful thing_ , Mummy, to not drink it…” James continued.

“Some people will never even taste firewhisky _ever_ , Ginny,” Ben added.

“We’re not talking about the fact that you’re drunk,” Harry snapped. “Although we _will_ be talking about that. We’re talking about the fact that you _let Lily have firewhisky!_ ”

“I didn’t _let_ Lulu do _anything_ ,” James argued.

“How hard is to keep alcohol out of the hands of a thirteen year old?” Ginny demanded. “It’s not difficult, all you’ve got to do is _not_ bring alcohol into common areas, but no, Harry hears from some Ravenclaws that the Gryffindors are being rowdy, we go all the way to the Tower, the Fat Lady is sloshed because you _bribed her with mead_ —”

“I didn’t bribe her…I just gave her mead so she would let my friends from other Houses in.”

“That’s _bribery,_ James,” Harry said.

“Nuh uh…says who?”

“Says the English language! Dictionaries! Me!”

“No…it’s…y’know. Subjective.”

“It is not in any way, shape, or form.”

“If that’s true, then telling me I could have dessert if I ate my dinner was bribery for all those years, Dad, my own _father_ —”

“That wasn’t bribery, that was a bargain,” Harry said immediately.

“Ah ha!” James shouted. “Mine was a bargain, too!”

“Wait…” Harry said, frustrated. “No, look—we—and you—and the Fat Lady…” he trailed off. He lowered his voice and hissed, panicked: “Ginny, what do we do?”

“Nothing we can do, he’s right, we definitely bribed our kids.”

“Ah _ha_!” James repeated. “The apple does—does not—fall far from the—from the—the branches!”

“Oh, Merlin…” Harry said.

Ginny continued: “James, focus. Listen. I need you to understand how serious this is! We got inside the Common Room and _you lot_ were absolutely off your faces— _including_ both the Head Boy and Girl, and you both better be glad we’re not going to tell McGonagall—”

“I’m not drunk,” Evvie argued at once.

“Evvie,”Ginny deadpanned. “You were chugging firewhisky from the bottle when we entered, save it.”

Laughter erupted.

“That’s because she lost our game!” Clementine giggled. “Her team…she, Ben, James, Nora—oh, they were _awful.”_

“James isn’t _awful_ ,” Nora argued at once. “Don’t say that!”

“At the game he was….yes, he was!”

“What game?” interrupted Harry curiously.

“No, Harry, we’re reprimanding—James, where do you think you’re going? I haven’t even gotten to my point yet!”

“Yeah? Is it very far away? Do you need help finding it?” James asked, and then promptly collapsed into laughter at his own joke. James roared in annoyance a moment later. “ _Ow_ , Mum, my own _mummy,_ you’re giving me mummy-issues, let go of my ear—”

“When we walked in,” Ginny continued through gritted teeth. “We found you and your Prefects—sans Rose, wherever she is—so drunk you didn’t notice Lily doing _shots_!”

“Oh my god,” Evvie suddenly said. She sounded terribly confused. “Was Lily Potter doing shots?”

“Yeah, that’s literally what I just said. She was two sofas away from you! With _Caden Rowle_!” said Ginny.

“What?! One of my—my little Slytherins?!”

“Little Cade!” Ben said. “Oh, they grow up so fast, Ev…seems like only yesterday we were teaching him how to properly tuck his shirt in and now he’s tucking in those shots—”

“This is not a joke, Benjamin!” Ginny snapped. “You’re lucky I haven’t Flooed Oliver! What would he be more upset about: the fact that you lost the match or the fact that you got drunk afterwards instead of working on strategies for the next match?”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “ _Please_ don’t tell my dad, Ginny.”

“Don’t tell his dad,” Evvie echoed.

“Mum,” James asked. “Am I still your favorite?”

“James, why did you think bringing alcohol into the Common Room—where _first years_ are—was a good idea?” Harry demanded.

“Mum? You…you didn’t answer. Do you need time to think on it? That’s okay…but answer right now, because it’s not okay.”

“James. Get a grip. I love you very much no matter what. Now answer your dad’s question.”

“But like… _how_ much? More than my siblings?”

“James!” snapped Ginny.

“What?”

“Talk to your father!”

“Oh,” James said. And then: “Dad, how much do you love me?”

“This is hopeless,” Harry said.

“Jamie,” Nora hissed. It sounded like a stage-whisper. “Jamie-Baby, _I_ love you more than everybody else in the world.”

A collective groan.

“Here we go _again_ …” Louis murmured.

“Thanks, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny,” Roxanne snapped. “We only just got them to shut up before you arrived.”

James’s smile was audible. There was the sound of sweet giggling followed by a kiss. “I love _you_ more than everybody else in the entire world, Nora-Bear,” James murmured.

“Wow,” Ginny said sarcastically. “That’s nice. Did you hear that, Harry? _Everybody_.”  

“I want to kiss you all day long and all night long and forever,” Nora said dreamily. It didn’t sound like she and James had even noticed Ginny’s comment. “I love your face and your body and your smile and your freckles—”

“Yeah, Nora, I’m pretty sure his smile and his freckles count as part of his body and face,” Louis snickered. He was ignored; Nora and James were officially in their own world.

“I love your face and body and lips and hands and— and I’m gonna kiss you for the rest of my life.”

“Ugh,” Ginny whispered, disgusted. “They’ve been like this for the entire night?”

“They’re pretty much always like this; the alcohol just encourages it,” somebody else said. Scorpius guessed it was Bec or maybe Sara.

“That might be punishment enough,” Harry hissed, presumably towards Ginny.

“I was just thinking that myself…should we still punish them all?”

“I dunno…I could dock a few House points?”

“Hmm, yeah, we could do that…”

“We can hear you, you know,” Roxanne scoffed.

“We know,” Ginny said. “Oi! James! Nora! _Not in front of everybody—_ what are you doing?! Get a room, honestly! No, wait— _go_ to your room! Room of Requirement, I need a room!”

“You’re a mum, Ginny, and I… _respect_ that authority, so I will go to my room, too,” Nora declared.

“Oh, your room is also James’s, is it?” Ginny said flatly.

“Yes.”

“That’s it? ‘Yes’? No witty quips about conserving space?”

“I just haven’t got that in me right now,” Nora said. 

James muttered something in a suggestive tone that caused Ben to roar with laughter and Ginny and Harry to cry: “ _James!”_

The sound of a nearby closing door followed. Silence ensued.

“We’ve…gotta….figure out a way to use love as an energy source,” Jacques slurred abruptly. “Hook those two up to something and get some bloody electricity in this drafty castle…”

Muffled giggles.

“That’s all right, Jacques,” Roxanne struggled to say around withheld laughter. “Shh…just…have a lie down, there you go…”

“You lot are a disaster,” Ginny said, exasperated. “How is it that you can be so responsible and dignified during the week and then…”she trailed off. Scorpius guessed she was probably gesturing at the drunken seventh years (and Roxanne).

“Wasn’t my idea,” Evvie said at once.

“Yes, well, nobody was forcing you to chug firewhisky, either.”

“I was, I was forcing her,” Ben said. “Yeah—yeah. She didn’t want to drink…she refused…you know, principles and morals and…stuff. But I said…I told her…drink this now or else I’ll—never kiss you again, and then she grabbed the bottle, and it’s all my fault, not hers.”

“While your chivalry is adorable, I’m a bit insulted that you even thought I’d believe that,” Ginny replied.

“I tried,” Ben sighed.

“Roxanne, Ben—as your Head of House, I’m docking twenty points apiece. I’m docking thirty from James and Evvie because they are _supposed_ to be model students. Twenty from the rest of you,” Harry declared.

“Keeping alcohol where all ages can get to it…I ask you…” added Ginny.

“What about Lily?!” Roxanne demanded, outraged. “Doesn’t she get points—oh, shit. Wait. She’s a Gryffindor, too. What I meant to say was…it’s all James’s fault.”

“Lily got twenty points docked from Gryffindor and detention every night for two weeks. Slughorn gave Caden detention every weekend for two weeks,” Harry said. “I believe that might send a message.”

“So we’ve lost…five hundred points today?!” Ben demanded.

“Might want to check over that addition, Chase,” Evvie said.

“You also lost twenty from Aster. Would’ve been more if Hugo had agreed to drink, but it seems he’s the only sensible Weasley…”

“Ouch,” Roxanne said.

“Low blow, Uncle Harry,” Louis complained.

The Potter parents said their goodbyes, warned the Sevens that their Head of Houses would be checking to make sure they returned to their dorms by nightfall, and then left. Scorpius nudged Albus.

“Albus.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear all that?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Should we go out there?”

“No way.”

Scorpius was all right with that. He turned back to his book, but a loud knock a few minutes later made Scorpius lower it back own.

“Who’s in there? Albus?” James called.

“YES,” Albus yelled back, annoyed. “I’m sleeping! Go away.”

“Brilliant! Oi, you lot—Albus is here! Albus, hey Albus, wake up and join us! Is Scorpius with you? Go get Scorpius! We’ve got some butterbeer left and some fancy stuff from Aunt Fleur’s kitchen and you should come out here, yeah?! Come on!”

“Oh, Merlin,” Albus groaned tiredly. “He really is shit-faced.”

Albus clearly intended on ignoring James. James clearly intended on not being ignored. After a minute of silence, James began pounding out a rhythm against the door with his fist.  

“AL-BUS, AL-BUS, AL-BUS,” he chanted. Moments later, Ben’s voice chimed in, and then Jacques’s. Albus turned and pressed his face over Scorpius’s heart.

“I think I hate my brother,” he realized.

But five minutes later, they were hesitantly stepping out into the main room of the Sevens’ headquarters. Albus had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he was exceedingly grumpy. It did not mesh well with James’s drunk exuberance.

“Albus!” he cheered. He slung an arm around Albus’s shoulders. “You’re here! My brother! I love you, Al. I love you, man.”

Albus grimaced. “That’s…great, James.”

Scorpius was sniggering, but that laughter stopped when James turned his attention to him. He beamed so widely that Scorpius noticed a dimple he’d never seen before. He let go of Albus and walked over, throwing his arm around Scorpius’s shoulders this time.

“Scorpius! Malfoy Man Scorpius. How’re you doing? Everything good?”

“Er…yeah. Yep.” Scorpius caught a whiff of firewhisky. “James…how much did you drink?”

“We played a game,” he responded sadly. “I lost.”

Scorpius furrowed his brow.

“Okay…” he said. He heard a commotion from the other side of the room; Louis and Clementine were buried beneath what looked like hundreds of books from the now-empty shelf above them. How they’d knocked them down, Scorpius had no idea, but they didn’t seem too upset by it. A little ways over from them, Sara and Bec were draped giggling over the sofa, an entire tray full of sweets in their laps. Roxanne and Jacques were dealing cards, Nora was curled up in an armchair, Ben was climbing precariously into a hammock, and Evvie was—coming towards them. _Uh oh, what did I do?!_ Scorpius scrambled to remember if he’d broken any rules, but he hadn’t come up with any by the time Evvie joined their small group.

“ _James_!” she said.

“ _Evvie_!” James shot back.

Scorpius had thought that she might actually be sober from afar, but now that she was up close, he realized that her eyes were a bit brighter than usual. Her cheeks were flushed raspberry pink, presumably from the alcohol. And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Scorpius could already feel waves of utter delight coming off of Albus.

“You’re drunk,” Albus said slyly.

“Am not,” Evvie shot back. She pointed at James, but her aim was slightly off so that she was really pointing at the shelf behind him. “You _will not_ give alcohol to these boys!”

“What? There’s so much left over!”

“They’re fifth years! We’re not going through this again!”

“So? We had parties when we were fifth years!”

From the other side of the room, Ben gave a sudden, gleeful hoot.

“Look at this! Evvie! Look!” he cried.

Evvie turned around and peered towards Ben. For whatever reason, he’d asked the room to provide a piano and was now standing beside it, beaming. Evvie looked up at the ceiling.

“ _Oh, God_ ,” she murmured. “I knew I’d live to regret showing him that.”

While Evvie bemoaned whatever it was that she was bemoaning, James handed Albus and Scorpius opened bottles of butterbeers, something both Albus and Scorpius _could_ drink. Scorpius took a sip as he watched Ben walked over to them. Ben didn’t greet them once he’d arrived. He wordlessly took Evvie’s hand and set back off towards the piano, literally dragging her along after him.

“No,” she complained.

“Albus! Scorpius! C’mere! You have to see this!” Ben urged.

Scorpius shrugged and followed after Ben and Evvie. Albus followed after him. They arrived at the piano just as Ben was sliding onto the bench in front of it. He tugged Evvie onto his lap.

“Watch this,” he told Scorpius and Albus happily. He rested his chin on Evvie’s shoulder. They watched. And waited. Nothing happened.

“Evvie!” Ben complained. He reached into her lap, took her hands, lifted them, and set them on the keys. A loud series of disjointed notes broke through the air from the pressure of her hands. She pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling stubbornly.

“Are we watching a battle of wills?” Albus guessed. “Because if so, I’ve got money on Evvie.” 

“No! Her dad—her dad’s a Muggle pianist! Did you know that?!”

“Really? Nice!” Scorpius grinned.

“We did not know that,” Albus confirmed.

“He—he’s this bloody good pianist! And Evvie can—when she’s not being stubborn—she makes the piano sing—please, Evvie?”

Her cheeks glowed brighter. “I’m…I’m not...”

“You’re drunk,” Albus supplied.

“No! I’m just—”

“Drunk,” Albus said again.

“ _No_! Ten points from Slytherin!”

“The drunk Head Girl just took ten points from me for…telling the truth?”

“Look,” she said tersely. “I was on the losing team of a stupid game and—we never talk about this again, got it?”

“Got it,” Albus said. “Never again.” Evvie faced forward and leaned back against Ben’s chest. “ _Until tomorrow_ ,” Albus murmured to Scorpius. Scorpius laughed.

“Please?” Ben whispered.

“No.”

“Pleaseee?” he repeated, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“No…”

“Pleaseeeee?” he asked softly.

“Why do you want me to play the piano so badly?” she demanded, exasperated.

“Because I like it.”

“Why?”

“It makes me happy.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re doing it.”

“Oh…”

Evvie glanced back and met Ben’s eyes. Scorpius let out an involuntary nervous giggle. He decided he did _not_ want to be there anymore. He took Albus’s hand.

“Let’s go check on Nora,” he said.

“Right,” Albus agreed quickly. “Let’s check on her.”

She didn’t need to be checked on. She and James were curled up into a tight ball together in the armchair, to the point that Scorpius was having a difficult time telling where Nora began and where James ended.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Nora was murmuring to James as they approached. She held James’s arms to her like a child might hold a teddy bear. “I feel awful.”

James kissed her hair. “Shall I carry you to the loo?”

“Not yet…maybe soon…I drank way too much.”

“My poor Nora-bear…” James cooed. “I’ll win the game for you next time, I promise.”

“Ew, no,” Albus said, stopping dead in his tracks, as if James had something highly contagious. “I’m not getting near that. Isn’t there anybody sane in this room?”

“Doubtful,” Scorpius admitted. “But the hammocks look fun. Swingy and cozy.”

Albus took to that idea immediately, but then again, he was also still wearing a blanket and yawing between butterbeer sips, so that didn’t surprise Scorpius. They crossed over to the side of the room with the hammocks, asked the room for a tall side table, set their butterbeers on it, and then clambered into a bright green hammock. Albus spread his blanket out to cover both them. Scorpius snuggled close and smiled into Albus’s neck.

“I made a good choice,” Scorpius said.

“You did,” Albus agreed.

Soft, tender music reached their ears a few minutes later. Scorpius smiled.

“Looks like Evvie changed her mind,” he whispered.

There was something about the sweet melody that left him feeling achingly nostalgic and tenderhearted. Those emotions seemed to fill him up and twist around his heart. He gripped Albus close and let the music fill his head until he was blissfully unaware of much of anything else. A long-forgotten memory came crawling to the forefront of his mind: his grandmother playing the piano with him held on her lap. He hadn’t given it much thought in years, but laying there, the melody flowing through his brain, he could feel the softness of her lap beneath his legs, the security of her arms on either side of him, her pointed chin pressed into his scalp. Maybe she’d even been playing this same song. He remembered, too, his grandad coming in and rushing her to leave…he had always been in a rush when visiting Scorpius and his parents at their first home. He had never liked Scorpius’s mum, and Scorpius never liked him for that reason. He remembered being so frightened of him as a small child, even though he had never so much as struck him. He had veered from his path, avoided greeting him and telling him goodbye. He’d decided early on, in that volatile, irrational way that children made judgements, that his grandfather wasn’t to be trusted, and that had remained the same until his grandfather’s passing. They’d moved into Malfoy Manor to be with his grandmother afterwards, but Scorpius realized he’d never heard her play the piano ever again.

Abruptly, he wanted Evvie to stop playing. His heart had taken on more weight than he was comfortable with carrying, and he didn’t want to think about the people that he had lost any longer. That loss felt more powerful here as it intertwined and weaved with the piano keys. He was struggling to find a polite way to ask her to choose a different piece when the music broke off.

“What?” he heard Evvie ask Ben.

“I just said it’s beautiful. Did you make it up?”

Evvie laughed. “Ben, it’s Debussy.”

There was a long pause.

“You…don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” she realized. “I forget that the Wizarding world has its own music.”

“No idea, but I like watching your face as you talk about it, so carry on.”

“Debussy was a composer in the 19th century. He did Clair de Lune.”

“Yeah? Nice one. I bet she was fit. Most Claires are fit.”

“No, it—oh, my god.” Alcohol-induced giggles broke off her sentence. “He—he composed what I just played. ‘The Girl with the Flaxen Hair’.”

“Was Claire de Lune the girl with the flaxen hair?”

“...We’re having a session on important Muggle musicians this weekend.”

“Okay,” Ben agreed at once. The grin in his voice was audible. A silence followed, and when Scorpius peeked curiously over the edge of the hammock, he saw Ben pressing a kiss to her cheek. He looked away as she smiled softly, feeling as if he’d just witnessed something deeply personal.

“I didn’t know your dad was a Muggle,” Roxanne suddenly said. Scorpius didn’t dare look out again to see where in the room she was, but he could tell from the drowsy tone to her voice that she was probably lying down somewhere. Everybody seemed to have reached the sleepy stage of their drunk states at nearly the same time; that or Evvie’s piano playing had urged it all along. Everybody was quiet and still.

“Yeah.” She paused for a few beats. “My mum’s a Squib.”  

“Seriously?”

“You never told us.”

“Wicked!”

“Wait,” Louis interrupted. “I thought your mum worked in the apothecary in Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah,” Nora added sleepily. “I talk to her every Hogsmeade trip.”

“That’s my aunt,” Evvie explained.

“What?! I thought that was your mum too, she looks just like you,” Bec agreed.

“It’s definitely not my mum. My mum is an engineer and she hasn’t stepped foot in the Wizarding world since she turned eighteen.”

“Damn, Evvie, what _else_ are you keeping from us?” James demanded. “You can play the piano, your mum isn’t your aunt, your mum makes engines…what next?! That’s snaky, that is. All these secrets. We love you, why are you keeping secrets from us?”

“Sorry for not telling you every minute detail of my life outside of Hogwarts.”

“Well, I’m just not ready to forgive you yet,” James said.

“I know something else she’s keeping a secret,” Ben said slyly.

“Don’t even think about it!” Evvie hissed.

“I know why she wouldn’t go on a date with me! Why she tormented me for years!”

“Chase Wood!” Evvie scolded, clearly hoping to distract him from blurting whatever ‘secret’ he had planned. Ben didn’t rise to the bait.

“Hazel. Her middle name is _Hazel_ ,” he said wickedly.

“After a pianist with the same name!” defended Evvie.

“Hazel Wood. Do you get it, James?” Ben laughed. “She wouldn’t go out with me because, if it worked out, she’d be Evvie Hazel Wood.”

James succumbed to laughter at once and Ben roared along with him. After only a few seconds, Evvie’s slurred giggles joined in with them. Scorpius’s arm erupted with pins and needles from his position; he sat up and stretched his arm out. He glanced curiously in the Sevens’ direction.

“Hazel…Wood…” James wheezed, their laughter continuing. Evvie and Ben were collapsed against each other in fits of giggles, still on the piano bench. James was laughing into Nora’s neck. “Al’s new wand is made of hazel wood!”

“Better than Chase Wood,” Evvie shot back, but she was still breathless with laughter, so it didn’t sound quite as cutting as it could’ve.

“You were named after a pianist, I was named after my mum’s Quidditch position—I’m not saying it was meant to be—no, yes I am. It was meant to be.”

“Well, that’s that, he doesn’t make the rules, Evvie,” James said with a shrug. He threw his arm around Ben’s shoulders a moment later and dropped a kiss to the top of his head. Ben ruffled his hair wildly in response and then smacked his stomach. James looked over towards Albus and Scorpius. “Hey, Al and Scorpius, do you want to play Exploding Snap with all of us?”

Scorpius wasn’t sure about playing Exploding Snap while most of the people were drunk, but Albus shrugged.

“Sure, all right,” he agreed.

Scorpius thought he probably found this a lot funnier than he was showing.

He also probably liked being the only Potter child who wasn’t in trouble.

* * *

 

“I’m going straight to my mum and dad’s,” Albus declared. The Room of Requirement door disappeared behind them once Scorpius closed it. “I bet Mum will give me _loads_ of sweets, she always does when James and Lily misbehave but I don’t.”

Scorpius nodded. “And I bet Harry would give us loads of House points.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Albus agreed. “And after the hit Gryffindor took tonight…yeah, let’s go.”

Albus reached over and grabbed Scorpius’s hand as they walked. Scorpius smiled.

“So,” Albus began. “Still keen on involving yourself with Potters?”

Scorpius thought back to their Exploding Snap competition, which had cumulated with James and Louis getting into an argument over who would win in a goblin versus centaur battle and wrestling it out atop the explosive cards. Nora and Clementine had still been mending the burns when Scorpius and Albus left. James took the burns—some of which that were located in very unfortunate areas—in stride; as he and Albus were walking out, Scorpius had heard James saying to Nora (about a burn located very, er, _low)_ : “No, that one is sort of shaped like an antler…let’s leave it so it’ll scar.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius said, fighting back belated laughter. “I’m sure. I’m ruined for any other families now. They’d just be too dull.”

He was thinking fondly of his summer at the Potter household as they walked towards Harry and Ginny’s living quarters. And then—all at once—he was thinking of nothing at all. He was light, free; every muscle was relaxed. There was nothing at all to worry or think about. Everything was _right_.

_Look._

And he did. A girl—thick dark hair, unassuming yet pretty features.

“Hey,” Albus said, but his voice sounded far away. “Iset! What are you—oh. Er. Are you…all right?”

“I’m…fine,” she managed, her voice shaking. “I’m looking for…Nora and Evvie said their club is somewhere nearby…”

“Oh, yeah, it is. Do you want me to walk you there?”

_Stay._

“Please. Please, thank you,” Iset said.

“Yeah, no problem,” replied Albus. He walked over towards her, a slight limp to his gait. “It’s this way,” he said. He started walking. Scorpius didn’t. He stopped a few paces away. “Scorp?”

_Stay_.

“I’m going to bed,” he heard his own voice say.

Albus frowned. Iset was staring at Scorpius, and that voice told Scorpius:

_Imperius her._

For a brief second, he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. But the discomfort passed. And nothing was really wrong, after all. He pushed his hands into his pocket.

“Why?” Albus asked. “What’s wrong?”

_Lie_. _You’re tired._

“I’m tired,” Scorpius said. He had his hand around his wand inside his pocket. _Wait until their backs are turned._ He waited.

“You weren’t tired before,” Albus said. He was beginning to sound uneasy.

_Imperius him, too._

His heart fell in another quick swoop of terror. He was relieved when it passed, when everything was _right_ again. Iset was looking at him strangely, and when he withdrew his wand, she had her own out in a second.

“ _Expelliarmus!”_

Scorpius felt his own wand yank from his hand. He watched with vague contentment as it fell onto the tile and skittered away. That was okay. Everything was okay.  He waited for what to do next.

“ _What the_ —!” Albus cried.

“He’s been Imperiused, oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve come sooner, they tried it on me and I was going to come straight here to tell Evvie and Nora but I was upset and—”

“Iset, okay, all right—slow down! _Who_ tried to Imperius you? How did you get away? How do we get Scorpius back to normal?”

“I didn’t get away, he never managed to do; nobody’s been able to Imperius me since I was seven, we have to find—”

_Get your wand_. _Try again_.

Scorpius immediately began to walk forwards. Iset quickly leaned over and snatched up his wand. She pointed hers at Scorpius afterwards. Her hand was shaking.

“Don’t,” she told him.

“My dad. Iset, let’s get my dad!” Albus said urgently. “He’ll know what to do!”

“Okay,” she said, but she wasn’t really paying attention to Albus now. She was walking around the edges of the hall.

_Stop her. Stop her!!_

For a moment, Scorpius thought: _Why?_

“I know who it was,” Iset told Albus suddenly. “He tried…but he didn’t know…and I heard his voice in my head. I recognized it.”

_Now_! _Crucio them both!_

But Scorpius’s heart gained weight again, and he thought, with more uncomfortable insistence: _Why_?

“So Avery’s around here somewhere, it’s just a matter of finding him,” Iset continued.

At that, Scorpius felt a strange tug inside his skull, and a moment later, he was left shaking in place, his mind feeling oddly vacant and bruised. He gulped in air. He shut his eyes. He could feel the cool air against his neck, the texture of his clothing, the floor beneath his feet. He was back—but he was—he’d been—

“Albus,” he said, his voice quivering.

“Scorpius? Are you okay? Are you…Iset, how do I know if he’s himself again?” Albus asked.

Scorpius wanted to run to him—he could tell Albus wanted to run to him, too—but he didn’t want to frighten him. Albus was clearly still uncertain.

“Avery must’ve run off. I thought he would when I said his name…we have to get a professor or somebody before he gets too far or tries it again—”

“ISET!” Albus yelled, clearly frustrated. “How do I make sure he’s okay?!” Iset jumped. She quickly walked over to Scorpius, but judging by her urgent, jerky steps, Scorpius got the feeling she was only doing it so Albus wouldn’t yell again; she didn’t look convinced that it was necessarily safe. And maybe it wasn’t. How did he know that voice was gone entirely? What if it came back, right as Iset walked up? What if it told him to reach out and take her throat into his hands?

He took a step back from her, his eyes wide.

“Scorpius?” she asked hesitantly.

Scorpius was still shivering. “I want my dad.”

“Scorpius, it’s okay,” reassured Iset, but Scorpius wasn’t reassured.

“No—it’s not—I could—I don’t know what to do,” Scorpius said.

“Think of something _you_ want to do and then do it,” she urged. He didn’t move. “Go on. If you can do it without hearing that voice, you’re okay, it’s over.”

So Scorpius thought: _I want to be beside Albus._

He waited, quivering and sweat-soaked, but he didn’t hear that odd voice. And when he took a step forward, there was no resistance.

“It’s okay,” he realized, and then he took a larger step and met Albus halfway. He fell into Albus’s open arms and gripped his waist tightly. Albus’s returning hold was tight and protective, to the point that Scorpius felt both reassured and a bit suffocated.

“We need our dads,” Albus said. His voice had taken on a tone that Scorpius had hardly ever heard—fierce, yes, but in an almost intimidating way. An angry way. A way that abruptly made Scorpius certain that Albus could be somebody to fear. “We don’t give them another chance. Straight to Draco, his room is closest.”

Scorpius couldn’t bear to move from Albus’s touch. He stayed close to his side, their arms looped around each other’s waists. Albus's hand was so tight around his side that it was pinching. He was still shivering.

He had never known—not really. He’d been vaguely aware of the horrors of the Imperius curse as they learned about it, but he’d never thought deeply enough about it to realize the full implications. But having now felt both the Cruciatus and this—he would’ve chosen the Cruciatus time after time. There was nothing more painful or frightening than the realization that something out there could make him hurt Albus.

 


	11. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One father betrays his child's trust while another father hangs on too tightly. The adults-- and the kids-- find themselves faced with new and alarming information. As the situation creates uncertainty surrounding the future, James finds himself planning one with even more determination. The trio takes a closer look at Azkaban. Meanwhile, everybody-- including Ginny-- is wondering what Ginny's still doing at the Daily Prophet.

“And that,” Ginny completed, “is how it all happens.”

She dropped the chalk down onto the table and dusted her hands off onto her trousers. Harry—his face burning uncomfortably—looked over towards their daughter. She wasn’t hysterically laughing like James had. She wasn’t cringing like somebody was smacking her across the face like Albus had done. What was she thinking? Her face was impassive. She was still half-sitting, half-laying in the armchair as she’d been for the past half hour, her ankles propped on the coffee table, a sugar quill held loosely in her fingers. Her brown eyes studied the blackboard—now laden with spells, diagrams, and definitions—as she lightly gnawed on the end of the quill. Harry couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Lulu?” he asked hesitantly. “Do you…understand?”

Maybe it’d been too soon. Ginny had seemed confident that they needed to give Lily nearly all of the proper details this time, but Harry wasn’t. And frankly, this entire situation made him feel vaguely nauseated. Had it made Lily feel the same way? Had it frightened her? She was still so young…still a child, still his little daughter. _Yes_ , Harry decided, his heart dropping. He observed his still speechless daughter. _Yes, it was too much! Oh, we’re rubbish parents, the absolute worse; we’ve completely tainted her innocent childhood—_

“Lily?” Ginny asked. She walked over and waved her hand in front of Lily’s face. “You in there?”

Lily gave a tiny jump. Her feet slid from the edge of the coffee table as she struggled to sit up straight in the chair. She yawned a moment later.

“Sorry, what, Mum?” she asked.

“…You were being very quiet. Your dad and I wanted to make sure you were okay. How do you feel about all of this?” asked Ginny.

Lily bit down on the sugar quill. There was a fragile _snap_ as the end portion came off. She chewed it loudly, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“About what?”

“About…all that. The things I just talked to you about for the past half-hour.”

“Oh,” Lily said. She pointed towards the blackboard with her sugar quill. “I already knew about all of that.”

“You…” Ginny trailed off. She looked urgently at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together in alarm. Harry’s heart leaped in equal fright.

“What?!” he blurted. “Lily— _what do you mean_?”

“I know about all of that,” she repeated. She took another bite from the sugar quill.

“How?” Ginny demanded.

“Aster told me.”

“ _All_ of that? She told you all of that?”

“Well, not the detailed diagram about boy parts. That was new. And I was right! No bones! _Yes_. It’s _so cool_.”

She looked oddly pleased with herself and her newfound knowledge. Harry locked eyes with his wife. After a moment of holding their incredulous shared look, Ginny threw her hands up into the air.

“Unbelievable,” she said. “I can’t believe Padma and Terry gave our daughter the talk.”

“Indirectly,” Lily corrected.

“I can’t believe Padma and Terry indirectly gave our last child the talk before we could,” Ginny repeated to Harry.  

Harry wasn’t exactly fond of giving ‘talks’, so he didn’t feel necessarily deprived, but he _was_ concerned about what Aster might’ve told Lily. In fact, the idea of those two discussing all of this made him extremely nervous, because there was no telling what sort of lies, misconceptions, and—though Harry loathed to even consider it— _bets_ had sprung up between the two.

“Er…what exactly did Aster say about all of this?” he asked.

Lily blinked. “Oh, Dad, has nobody told you yet? Aw. So there are men and there are women and there are penises and—”

“No!” he hurriedly interrupted. “Don’t be cheeky, Lily! You know what I mean.”

Lily shrugged. Her eyes had widened with her familiar look of faux innocence. “You know.”

“She didn’t say—because it’s _not_ a competition—and there are plenty of great things in life to make bets about or dare each other to do, like…” his brain scrambled for something relatively safe. “Highest mark on an essay…who can eat the most chocolate in one sitting…”

“Dad, relax,” Lily said. She recrossed her ankles and propped them on the table, accidentally sending some of Ginny’s article drafts onto the floor. Ginny quickly dove to retrieve them before their kleptomaniac cat could. “Aster and I don’t make bets. We make pacts.”

“Pacts?!” he demanded, his heart actually skipping a beat in his alarm. “What do you mean _pacts_?!”

Lily furrowed her brow. “Are you all right, Dad? You look…peaky.”

“A pact?” he repeated faintly.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry, get a grip,” Ginny muttered to him. He ignored her.

“Yeah,” Lily said. “Our pact says we aren’t allowed to kiss anyone until the other approves. So Aster had to say she thought Caden was all right before—”

“Lily,” Ginny said quickly. “Perhaps now isn’t the best time to tell your dad all about your first kiss.”

Lily blinked innocently. “What about the second or the third?”

Harry—disturbed by the notion that Lily was growing up, deeply unsettled by the idea of Caden Rowle kissing his daughter—blurted (without thinking it through): “Kissing is for adults, Lily!”

There was a long pause. Both Ginny and Lily observed Harry dryly. As they did, Harry had a quick mental montage of James and Nora snogging all over the house from their fifth year onwards.

“It’s just _too easy_ ,” Lily finally said to Ginny.  

“Yeah, he didn’t really think that one through,” Ginny agreed softly. “Just let it go.”

“Three times?” Harry finally demanded, before he could stop himself. “You let him kiss you _three_ times? What do you see in Rowle, Lily? I’m really asking. I want to know. Why do you like him? Quinton Bell seems to like you. Why not Quinton Bell? He seems nice.”

Lily scoffed. “Not Quinton Bell because Quinton Bell likes me _too_ much. It’s boring. If I already know he’d kill for me without much mystery or victory, what’s the _point_?”

“Uh…” _What sort of relationship did Ginny and I model for Lily where ‘murder’ is one of the requisites?!_

Lily seemed to be waiting for another question. She looked eagerly between Harry and Ginny. Harry wondered if she’d wanted to talk to them about her ‘relationship’ for a while, but had been too afraid to. Had his attitude towards Caden impacted Lily’s ability to be open with him? Had _he_ created the rift he’d been worrying about for weeks? The idea made his heart ache. So—as much as he did not want to hear about Caden Rowle kissing and winning over his little girl—he asked: “What about _Caden_ specifically is not boring?”

Lily smiled. She shifted and brought her legs up into the armchair. She tucked them beneath her.

“Well, Caden likes Caden more than he likes me,” Lily answered immediately. “And I like me more than I like Caden. We get each other.”

Harry felt his lips twitch. He withheld his incredulous, bemused laugh and nodded. “Okay, what else?”

“And I know he’ll always tell me the truth. And he was the only one willing to practice the Imperius Curse with me and he understood why it was important to me. And when we’re annoying each other, we can say ‘you’re annoying, shut it’, and that’s that, and nobody whines or gets their feelings hurt, and that’s nice. Don’t you think so, Dad?”

Lily was looking at him head-on, her expression intensely inquisitive, but he could sense a bit of vulnerability there, too. She wanted his opinion, he realized. No—she wanted his approval. She wanted to share this new part of her life with him and she wanted him to say that it was great—that he was happy for her. His throat narrowed, and for an alarming moment, he worried that he wouldn’t be able to do it. He was always wrestling with the destructive thought that he _couldn’t_ be a good dad, couldn’t be the dad his children deserved. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny’s posture had gone a bit tense like she was holding her breath. She clearly realized what Harry had—that this somewhat silly conversation was actually really important to Lily. And Harry couldn’t let them down. He wouldn’t let Lily down like he’d let Albus down last year. He wouldn’t let Ginny down, either.

“Yeah,” he finally said. He scrounged for something positive to say about the ‘relationship’ he really wasn’t okay with. “It’s important to be able to…be yourself with someone. And I’m glad that you can be yourself with Row—Caden.”

He must’ve passed the test because Lily’s responding beam was radiant.

“Yeah! That’s how I feel about it, too!” she exclaimed. She was still smiling. “And he doesn’t want to be with me _all the bloody time_ and he doesn’t try to put his arm on my shoulders or hold my hand _all the time_ , and that’s really nice, too, because I _hate_ that.” There was a pause. “And I don’t know if you've noticed, but he’s really, really handsome. Probably the most handsome in the school. And he thinks I’m the prettiest in the school. And we're both clever. So we deserve each other.”

Harry felt his worry give way to amusement. He smiled. “If you think he’s handsome, I'll take your word for it.”

“No, I don’t think it, he _is_ handsome,” Lily corrected matter-of-factly. “And he makes me feel even _more_ powerful. That might be the best part.”

Harry shared a dismayed look with Ginny. While on the surface that admittance was innocent enough, he was getting the sinking realization that Lulu’s teenage years were going to be a lot more trouble than he’d previously anticipated – and he had anticipated a lot of trouble.  

Ginny walked over and perched on the arm of Lily’s chair. She enveloped her in a warm hug.

“Just remember that you’re plenty powerful on your own,” she reminded their daughter.

“Oh, I know,” Lily reassured her. “And so does Caden. So can we have the same detention time now?”

Harry was thrown for a moment.

“What?” he demanded.

“Our detentions. You gave me detention on week nights and Caden has them on weekend nights. Can we both have them during the weekend?”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, affronted. “That’s what this was about?! This entire conversation?!” A beat. He felt childishly wounded. “I thought you wanted to share things with me!”

“Don’t be a James, Dad, of course the entire conversation wasn’t about that…just the part where I said _‘can we have the same detention_ ’. Why can’t we?”

“Because you were doing _shots of firewhisky_ , Lily!”

“Just two!”

“Two too many!”

“But why can’t we do our time together?”

“Because then it’s not a punishment,” Ginny said. Lily parted her lips to argue, but Ginny lifted a palm, silencing her. “Let it go, Lulu.”

Lily scoffed. “That’s just unrealistic advice, Mum. I’ve never let anything go in my entire life.”

Harry was readying himself to deliver another lecture when sudden, urgent knocking erupted along the main door.

Draco, of all people, yelled: “Harry! Open up!”

Harry scowled. “What’s Draco want now? I swear if this is about the ‘condition’ of his living quarters again…”

“Dad!” they heard Albus shout. “Dad, c’mon! Mum!”

Harry was up from his seat in a second’s time, his heart hammering hard in his head. He was immediately assaulted by fleeting images of worst case scenarios: Albus being tortured…Scorpius being tortured…

Harry wrenched the door open. He caught a whiff of flowers as Ginny urgently joined him. Draco pushed inside, followed by Albus, Scorpius, and—Iset Goyle?

“What happened?” Harry said at once.

Draco was incredibly pallid and Scorpius was no better. Albus had a tight grip on Scorpius’s waist, and when Ginny tried to separate them long enough to pull shivering Scorpius into her arms, Albus absolutely refused to let go.

“Avery put the Imperius Curse on _my SON_!” Draco boomed. His sudden volume made Albus jump. Iset flinched away from Draco. And Harry’s heart plummeted.

“What?!” he turned his full focus to Scorpius, who was now gripping tightly onto Ginny, Albus’s hand still locked tightly around his. He was nodding as Ginny murmured assurances that Harry couldn’t make out, her hand stroking through Scorpius’s hair like he was her son. Harry was accosted suddenly by the memory of Molly Weasley’s arms around him after Cedric died. His throat narrowed for a moment in time, and in that brief moment, he was only able to think with maddening reverence: _Weasley women_. But his son’s furious words brought him back to their current issue rather quickly.

“Cyprus Avery used the Imperius Curse on Scorpius!” 

“On _my son_!” Draco reiterated furiously.

“On _my boyfriend_!” Albus added, his tone equally fierce.

“Okay,” Harry said. He looked between Draco, Albus, Scorpius, and Iset, his mind spinning. “Okay. We need to get Professor McGonagall.”

“No! What I need to do—what I _need to do_ —is go find Avery’s son and—”

“Draco, no!” Harry snapped. He reached out and grabbed a handful of Draco’s pajama shirt, refusing to let him storm to the door. “We have to be rational about this—”

“YOU WOULDN’T BE RATIONAL IF IT HAD BEEN YOUR SON!”

“It _was_ my son! My sons were _both_ attacked with Unforgivables!” Harry shouted back. What world were they in now where _he_ was talking _Draco Malfoy_ down from behaving rashly? But Harry understood. Scorpius being hurt changed everything.

“And that makes it okay for my son to be?!”

“NOBODY is saying that this is okay!”

Harry saw movement from the corner of his eye. He glanced over and saw Iset steadily stepping back towards the doorway, clearly wanting to get away from their explosive tempers. It was enough to remind Harry to keep a grip on his emotions. He took a deep breath; Draco did the same. Lily—who’d been standing nervously behind Ginny and Scorpius—crossed over to Iset. She reached out and took her hand. Harry was worried Lily would begin harassing Iset about what happened, but he was far from the mark.

“I heard you like cats,” Lily said lightly. “This is a great place to be if you like cats because my mum hoards them. Have you ever held a Pygmy Puff?”

Lily gently pulled Iset over to the back of the living room. The two began trying to coax out as many cats as possible. Harry turned to Albus.

“Albus, what happened? Start from the beginning.”

Albus looked angrier than Harry had ever seen, and he’d seen his son in a temper many times.

“We were leaving the Room of Requirement and Avery was near us, somewhere! We crossed paths with Iset, who was on her way to find Nora and Evvie, and I went to take her there but Scorpius didn’t follow and then he had his wand out and his eyes were—” Albus’s words broke off abruptly. “I think we should go find him now! McGonagall’s rules aren’t working! Draco is right! Let's deal with this ourselves!"

“No,” Harry repeated. “That will only make things worse. What else?”

“I don’t know, Dad!” Albus snapped, frustrated. “Iset said she was on her way to find Nora and Evvie because Avery had just tried to Imperius _her,_ but it didn’t work, so she was able to get away _and_ remember whose voice was in her head. She accused Avery and then Avery broke the spell and Scorpius came back to himself. I want Avery punished!”

“I know, Al. Believe me, I know.”

“You don’t know! You didn’t see him like that! They took him away without even taking him anywhere!” Albus yelled.

The emotions were running too high. Somebody was going to do something they’d regret, and it was too early to tell which of them it might be.

“First thing’s first, Al,” Ginny interrupted. “Scorpius: are you okay?”

“I…yes. I think. My head aches but I feel like me again,” he said.

He had stepped back from Ginny’s embrace by now, but judging by the way he had his arms around himself, he wasn’t feeling much better. His eyes kept darting to Draco. Harry could tell he really needed his dad, but Draco was too busy pacing and pulling angrily at his sleeves to realize that.

“Okay,” Ginny said. “Then we need to alert McGonagall.”

Albus was so angry that he was almost certainly grinding his teeth, judging by the way his jaw was working. Draco pursed his lips tightly. Ginny was watching Albus with a frown. Lily and Iset were buried beneath affectionate, furry pets. And Scorpius—

“Dad,” he croaked, his eyes hazy behind a film of tears. That one word sent pain coursing throughout Harry, even though Scorpius wasn’t his son and he hadn’t addressed him. He still cared very much for Scorpius and seeing him so broken hurt.

Harry was readying himself to yell at Draco for Scorpius’s benefit, but Draco was a better dad than Harry gave him credit for. He was at Scorpius’s side immediately, and when he opened his arms, Scorpius threw himself into them.

“I almost hurt Albus,” Scorpius said. His words were wobbly and nearing hysterics. Harry felt embarrassed for overhearing them.

“It won’t happen again,” Draco promised without pause. “Not _ever_ again, Scorpius.”

Harry looked awkwardly away. He locked eyes with Albus as Albus did the same. Harry wasn’t really thinking about much as he closed the gap between them and reached forward. He just knew Albus had to have been upset. And at first, Albus was tense and refused to return the hug. But right as Harry was about to pull back, Albus reached up and held on.

“Are _you_ okay?” Harry whispered.

“Yes,” Albus lied.

Harry stepped back and looked down at Albus. He studied his green eyes; it felt like looking into a mirror.

“We’ll get him. Avery. And we’ll make this right.”

Harry prayed that he and Draco weren’t making empty promises to their sons.

“I’ll go get McGonagall.”

Harry turned to look at Ginny, alarmed.

“Not by yourself,” he complained.

“Fine.” Ginny turned. “Lily, want to go on a trip with me?”

“ _Not with Lulu!”_ Harry exclaimed, even more horrified now.  

“Why not? Nobody’s getting through the both of us.”

“Yeah,” Lily agreed, already scrambling to her feet. “Weasley women win. It’s my trunk combination.”

“No, let’s all go,” he said. Ginny gave him an annoyed look. “ _Please_ ,” he added. His concerned desperation must’ve slipped into his tone, because after another long moment, she nodded.

* * *

 

McGonagall’s hand shook as she tightly tied her tartan dressing gown.

“Imperiused? Avery, you said?”

“Yes,” Albus said, before any adult could respond. “I want him in Azkaban!”

McGonagall dropped her hands to her side. She peered seriously at Scorpius and Iset.

“You’re both _positive_ that it was Cyprus Avery’s voice in your head?” she asked.

Scorpius nodded after a moment’s pause. Iset didn’t hesitate at all.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m positive.”

McGonagall nodded. “Very well. I will contact Hermione and retrieve Cyprus Avery myself.”

Albus looked relieved. “So he can go to prison?”

“He’ll certainly be charged. The Imperius Curse on two students in one night? Deplorable.”

She crossed over to the ornate fireplace inside her office. Harry felt uneasy. He wanted Avery stopped—especially since he seemed to have it out for Harry’s family and friends—but something about this situation didn’t feel right. There were too many gaping holes. Why was Avery trying to Imperius students—what was he hoping to achieve? How had Iset been able to throw off the Imperius Curse? And was it really just Avery who was responsible, or were more students doing it too? There was the very real threat of acting before understanding. Harry didn’t want to lock Cyprus Avery up somewhere without knowing _why_ he was doing what he was doing because somebody else would surely fill his shoes quickly afterwards. And he definitely didn't want those acting out to close ranks or retaliate. 

Unsurprisingly, his wife was on the same wavelength.

“We should question him first,” she said quickly. McGonagall had her hand in the Floo pot, but she glanced back at Ginny and paused. “Arresting him immediately won’t fix anything…there’s no way he’s the only one doing these things.”

“It’ll get him away from here!” Albus shot back, outraged. “It’ll make him pay for what he did!”

“Your mum is right,” Harry told Albus. Albus groaned, frustrated. “We’ll still report this to Hermione and Grey-- it will still be dealt with. But before we make such a permanent decision we need to understand who is acting and _why_." 

“We know why,” Lily piped up. Everybody turned to look at her. She shrugged. “They hate us.”

“Draco,” McGonagall said. She set the Floo pot back down. “You’ve been working with these children. Did they tell you anything that might be of importance? Did you get any hints that this attack was coming?”

“No, and if I had, I would’ve come straight to you, Professor!” Draco snapped. “Avery hasn’t been to see me. Many of them haven’t, actually.”

“Well, we can start there,” Harry said. He summoned a roll of parchment from a shelf adjacent to McGonagall’s desk. A quill and inkwell followed. “If we're going to come down on these students, we need to come down on all of them at once- getting just one is only going to make the others scatter. We saw what happened when we did that with Halloran Carrow; things only got worse. The ones who haven’t been to see you, Draco, the ones who have significant ties to Death Eaters, those are the ones we can consider worth examining first.”

“No,” Draco said at once. He shook his head. “I’m not—comfortable with that. We told these students their names would be private.”

“And they are, I’m asking you to write down the ones who _haven’t_ been to see you.”

“But just because they haven’t been to see me doesn’t mean they’re responsible!” There was a beat. “Ms. Goyle hasn’t been to see me, but that doesn’t mean she’s responsible.”

Everybody flashed their gazes quickly to Iset, who was standing between Ginny and Lily. She seemed unsure of what to say back to that.

“I thought you wanted Avery punished and all of this stopped, Draco—”

“OF COURSE I WANT HIM PUNISHED!” Draco boomed. Most everybody jumped, except Ginny, who sighed. “Of course I want him punished! He hurt my son! He invaded my son’s mind! He—my son, the _only_ good thing left—”

Harry regretted his words almost immediately as emotion surged within Draco. He frowned and shifted his weight uncomfortably as Draco’s words severed abruptly.

“Draco…” he said. “I didn’t…what I meant was…”

“I think you said exactly what you meant,” said Draco coldly. “There is a difference—a very big difference—between wanting to hold Avery accountable for something we are _sure_ he did, and using the slight trust these students have in me to go on a blind hunt. I won’t give names. If I had any evidence of wrongdoing, I would give that, but I cannot jeopardize the slight good I’ve managed to do here.”

“We’ll find another way,” Ginny said firmly. "Without the names." Harry parted his lips to argue but thought better of it. He pursed them together tightly instead.

McGonagall crossed back over to them. “Before we make any decisions, we’ll escort Ms. Goyle and Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing so Poppy can look over them—”

“No!” Albus cried. “No, we aren’t going! We want to know what you lot have found out about what's going on outside of Hogwarts! We deserve to know— _I_ deserve to know! You’ve been keeping secrets from us and it isn’t fair! And now you want to keep more secrets from us-- you want to send us away so we can't even have a say in how Avery is punished!”

“You and Scorpius are children—” Draco tried to say.

“I _don’t care_!” Albus yelled. His fists were clenched. “I deserve to know. Scorpius deserves to know. Iset deserves to know!”

There was a pause, and then:

“What about me?” Lily murmured underneath her breath, annoyed. “Don't I deserve to know? He always forgets about me.”

Everybody looked at Harry. He reached up and brought his glasses down long enough to rub between his eyes. He righted them, rubbed over his scar, and sighed. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand how Albus was feeling; he’d felt a very similar way in his fifth year. And he knew, perhaps better than anybody else, what emotions like that could drive someone to do. What the cost could ultimately be.

“I think he’s right,” Harry finally said. He turned to look at the students. “You deserve more information than you’ve gotten. But we need more information, too. Before we can even begin to figure out the right move to make with Avery, we need to know everything."

He directed his last words at Iset. She looked away.

“Iset, I know something is going on with your dad. And I’m sure he’s threatened you…and I know you’re frightened. But I promise…Iset.” He waited until she’d looked back up at him. “I _swear_ that I won’t let him hurt you. Whatever you tell us….we won’t be reckless with that information. We want all of you to be safe, but we can’t crack this without more information. We don't know enough-- especially not about what's going on in here, and I think you know something we don't. We’ll ask all of our questions now and then we won’t ask you anything ever again if you don’t want us to. If you’d rather just talk to Draco, or just to Professor McGonagall, or just to Ginny—that’s fine, too. But I need you to talk to one of us and tell us what’s been going on at your home.”

Her eyes swelled with tears. Harry frowned.

“You don’t understand,” she finally told him weakly.

“I know,” he agreed. He was working hard to keep his tone gentle. “That’s why I need you to explain it to me.”

“I can’t…”

“You can. Whatever he said would happen if you did—he’ll have to get through me first to do it.”

Harry searched for the words to make her believe him. The words to make her aware of the protectiveness surging inside of him. But he’d only ever been good at showing it.

“It’s not just him,” she countered, her voice small. “It’s—…”

Her words seem to stick on the back of her throat. Harry knew this was going to be very difficult for her, and he wished there was another way, but he was at a loss. They were learning more and more about what was going on outside of Hogwarts, but what was going on _inside_ of it was still largely a mystery, and that was what Harry needed to solve the quickest (because his children were at risk). 

“We know about the people working with your father,” Harry prompted. Her expression shifted just slightly; her dark eyes were locked on her shoes. “The Death Eaters who have been released already. Alecto Carrow. Rookwood, Mulciber, Selwyn, Yaxley. Zabini.”

She looked up.

“Did they threaten you?” Harry asked.

She slowly nodded.

“Threatened you not to tell anyone?”

To his surprise, she shook her head. Harry frowned.

“Did they threaten you because you wouldn’t join them?” Draco asked.

She nodded. She sniffed a moment later. Ginny was at her side in an instant.

“Iset,” she whispered. “Would you like us to leave? Who would you like to talk to?”

Harry assumed McGonagall or even Ginny, as Iset seemed much more comfortable around women, but she surprised him.

“Professor Potter,” she said, her voice shaking. She met Harry’s eyes, hers brimming with tears. “Can Rose be here?”

Harry parted his lips but wasn’t sure what to say. He was a bit taken aback.

“I think…yeah,” he finally said. He nodded. “Yeah, if that’s what would make you more comfortable, we can get Rose.”

“Let’s find her,” Scorpius suddenly said to Albus. He seemed eager for Rose to join Iset. He turned. “Harry, can Albus and I go get Rose?”

“Not by yourselves,” Harry responded.

“I’ll take them,” Ginny offered. “Lily—with me.”

“But—!”

“No backchat!”

“ _Fine_ …”

Lily stamped to the doorway after Albus and Scorpius.

“I’ll get James, too," Ginny murmured to Harry as she passed by him. “He’ll need a Sobering Potion, but luckily we’ve got plenty leftover from our anniversary.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

“James?” Draco demanded. “Don’t you think enough people know about this already?”

“If Lily and Albus are getting information, James deserves to get it, too,” Harry explained. He and Ginny both took the time to give Draco a stern look—daring him to contest them—but he didn’t dare.

“Sorted,” Ginny said. She patted Draco on the arm as she passed him by. He narrowed his eyes at her as she and the kids—sans Iset—left the office.

“Aggravating woman,” he finally growled.

Harry felt a flash of defensiveness. “That’s _my_ aggravating woman, okay, so watch your mouth.”

Draco gave him a dry look. “I never doubted that for a moment.”

“Well…good.”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “Let’s have tea while we’re waiting, shall we?”

* * *

 

Iset was bombarded by _three_ people when the group returned: Rose, James, _and_ Nora.

“That’s one more person than we discussed,” Draco complained to Harry.

Harry wasn’t the least bit surprised by Nora’s arrival. “James would tell her absolutely everything anyway, so trust me; it’s really not an additional person.”

Rose threw her arms around Iset and held her tightly while James and Nora asked fretful, overlapping questions like: ‘are you okay?’, ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there’, ‘how can we help?’. Albus still had a tight grip on Scorpius’s waist, even though Scorpius was beginning to look less pale. Lily walked over and sat beside Harry at the long table McGonagall had conjured. Harry passed her the mug of tea he’d already made for her.

“I’m over this,” Lily told Harry matter-of-factly. “I've got your 'perfect solution': let’s snuff Avery and end the drama.”

Harry smiled. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Lily, bringing her over long enough to kiss the top of her head. “If only it were that simple, Lulu.”

“Trust me,” Lily muttered darkly. She took a deep sip and whispered her next words into her mug. “It can be that simple if you want it to be that simple.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he smiled again a moment later as Ginny joined them, settling into the seat on Harry’s other side. He passed her her mug. She took an immediate sip.

“Our son is _furious_ ,” she greeted, her eyes darting over to Albus. His lips _were_ still pressed into a tight, angry line. “I had to talk him down from retaliation three times during our walk back.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised or that I blame him,” Harry admitted. _If somebody had violated you that way again…_ he didn’t let himself complete the thought because even the hypothetical situation made his heart rate pick up.

“We’ve got to do something about this, or the kids are going to do something about it, and it won’t end well,” she warned lowly.

Harry looked over at James. He was listening to Iset and Rose with his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, his posture tense. It was his angry, protective stance. And Ginny was right; their children would certainly take matters into their own hands if something wasn’t done soon.

“We’ll get information and we'll figure something out,” he whispered to his wife. She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh in response.

While Albus, Scorpius, Ginny, James, Nora, Lily, Draco, and McGonagall sat at the table, Harry rose. He walked over to where Iset and Rose were talking quietly. He set his hand on Rose’s shoulder.

“Let’s step through here,” he told them both. Rose nodded at once, and even though Iset looked apprehensive, she followed after Rose as Rose gently pulled on her hand.

Harry led them into a small antechamber that led to the Headmistress’s living quarters. There was a narrow sofa pushed against the wall to their right, a small table beside it with a vase of red roses atop it, and an old, mustard-yellow velour armchair. Harry gestured towards the sofa and sank down into the armchair. The old cushions gave in with a dusty cough as he sat down; he felt like he was being swallowed.

“Arg,” he said. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly and hoisted himself forward. He was sure he looked extremely professional, with his hair flopping into his eyes and his glasses knocked crooked. He perched nervously on the edge of the armchair, afraid to slide back for fear of never returning. Rose gave a tentative giggle from across the dimly lit chamber.

“Okay,” Harry said. He righted himself and looked across at his students. Rose and Iset were sitting together in the middle of the sofa. Iset must have told Rose what was happening, because Rose was waiting with a steady patience, her confident eyes on her uncle as she waited for the questions to begin. “First let’s…make it cheerier in here.” Harry appraised the dim, somewhat-depressing lighting and waved his wand, causing the candles to burn brighter. Better. “Iset, I’d like to start with what happened tonight. Why was Avery unable to cast the Imperius Curse on you?”

He’d honestly thought it’d be the most innocuous question of them all, but she immediately closed up. She cringed into Rose’s side and looked at a point as far from Harry as possible. Harry frowned.

“Okay, bad place to begin I’m guessing…”

“It’s a good place,” Rose argued. She was looking down at Iset. “Iset. It’s where it all begins, right? It’s a good place to start.”

For a moment, Iset did nothing. She’d squeezed her eyes shut, and Harry thought she might remain that way for a while. But gradually, with what could only be described as a result of her trust in Rose and Rose alone, she turned to look up at her. She seemed to be asking her something wordlessly, and while Harry was utterly lost, Rose understood.

“It’s okay,” Rose nodded. “Next to my dad, Uncle Harry’s the best man there is. No ulterior motives. He just wants to help.”

Harry—momentarily distracted by the flattery those words ensued—nearly missed the soft exchange that followed. He watched with slight, secondhand embarrassment as Rose reached up and touched Iset’s hair. Perhaps she’d intended on brushing it behind her ear. Perhaps she’d intended on patting Iset’s cheek reassuringly. Whatever her initial intentions had been, the moment her hand touched Iset’s hair, they both froze. Something heavy passed in the air between them, visible even to Harry from across the room. Their gazes locked. For a moment, nobody did anything. Rose’s hand was quivering just slightly as she gently pushed strands of wayward hair behind Iset’s left ear. Her hand caressed Iset’s hair as it fell back down towards her lap. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Er,” he said. “The, er…Imperius Curse?”

“Oh,” Iset said, her cheeks darkening in the flickering candlelight. She turned slightly to face Harry. It seemed to take her a moment to order her thoughts; her lips were still curved up in a soft smile. “Yes. Well.”

He waited. Rose was examining her still-quivering fingers with a faint smile. Maybe letting Rose join them was a bad idea…he was never going to get answers from Iset at this rate…

“I taught myself how to. How to resist it…the Imperius, I mean. When I was seven. Not alone…my nanny—” she broke off. Her lingering smile fell away. “The woman who used to be my nanny…she helped me.”

Harry couldn’t do much but stare at Iset, stunned.

“You learned how to throw off the Imperius Curse at age _seven_?” he finally demanded.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice small. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t difficult to learn. When you have to do something…well, you’ve got to, you know? I had to learn how. So I did. Every night, my nanny would read to me, and then we would practice. Over and over again…until I didn’t need to practice anymore…until I had it.”

Harry didn’t want to ask. His skin was crawling and his throat felt tight. Somehow, he thought he probably already knew.

“Your dad,” he began. His words were thicker than he would’ve liked. “Your dad used the Imperius Curse on you.”

She looked to the side. She sniffed as she reached up and wiped at her eyes. Rose took Iset’s free hand in between both of hers.

“All the time,” she admitted. “I probably spent more time Imperiused in my early years than I spent as myself.”

He sighed wearily. He rubbed over his scar.

“Okay. I have to ask—it’ll be important when we charge him. Can you remember at all _why_ he was Imperiusing you?”

Once again, his question had a collapsing effect. At least he’d expected it this time. He watched with a sick stomach and an even queasier heart as Iset curled up into herself, her cries weak and gasping, like air being let from a balloon. Rose’s tear-filled brown eyes glittered as the light flickered off them. Her arm went around Iset’s bowed back.

“He—he—wanted me to be like him—” Iset wasn’t making much sense; each word was weighed down by multiple sobs.

“Rose…I’m guessing you know?” asked Harry. He knew he really should’ve insisted on hearing it from Iset’s mouth, but he was filled with too much sorrow. He just wanted to make this as easy as possible on her.

“Yes. Iset, do you want me to…” Rose trailed off. After a moment, Iset nodded into her thighs. Rose turned to face Harry, her palm now stroking gently down Iset’s spine.

“Iset’s mum and dad…they tried to raise her like they were raised, which wasn’t anything like how we—or, I guess, how _I_ was raised. They…wanted her to be like them. You know…cold. Violent. Evil.”

 _Evil_ was the only word Harry felt even slightly encompassed the sickness of Goyle.

“But she wasn’t like them. She never was….even as a baby. And by the time she was three, she was arguing with her parents about some of the things they said…and they wouldn’t put up with it. So her dad started putting the Imperius Curse on her…at first to make her obey immediately. 'Pick your toys up’ or ‘go to bed’...stuff like that. But then they started using it to try and make her…”

Rose trailed off. She looked sick.

“I don’t really want to…” she looked down at Iset. She seemed to realize this was much harder for Iset to talk about than her, and so she looked back up at Harry. “At first, it was tiny things…they would make her say mean things to her cats. They wouldn’t let her have any friends, so beyond them and their friends, those were the only creatures she really interacted with. So they would make her yell and scream and throw things at them while Imperiused until the cats were too frightened to come near her when she was herself again. And then it was bigger things. Hitting them…dousing them in water…” Rose stopped again. She swallowed roughly. “You understand the idea, don’t you, Uncle Harry?”

Harry realized his own hands were shaking somewhat. But it was from rage.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

“They made her torture and kill her pets. And they would lift the Curse right afterwards, so she’d suddenly find herself looking at—”

“Stop,” Iset interrupted suddenly. She had both her arms over her head now. “Please, stop.”

Harry found himself reaching forward, though he didn’t know what he was reaching for. To comfort her? It would surely only make things worse. How could she ever accept comforting when her entire life had been built upon the utmost violation, the vilest betrayal of trust, from the very people who were supposed to take care of her always?

“They did those sorts of things until she learned how to make them stop,” Rose completed. “And it never did what they’d hoped…it didn’t break her and make her coldhearted or…whatever they were trying for. It made her kinder.”

Iset made a short sound of disbelief. Rose ignored it.

“Her dad has been trying to get Death Eaters back together for ages, but it was pretty impossible, with the Aurors trailing after him. When they stopped recently, late this summer I think she said, it gave him the chance to keep going at it. He gathered old Death Eaters who also wanted a return to the way things used to be…many of which who have children or other family here at Hogwarts…and they tried to force Iset to get involved with their new plans.”

Harry took a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay,” he repeated. He inhaled again and tried to right his thoughts. “What did your parents want you to do here, Iset?”

It took her a moment, but she finally sat back up. She leaned weakly into Rose’s side, though. Reliving the horror of her childhood had made her look absolutely ill, like she could’ve passed out or vomited at any moment. It was a feeling that was clearly shared by everybody in the room.

“I was supposed to corrupt your kids.”

Harry stared. “What?”

“The plan for Hogwarts was to turn my peers against the Ministry and against you so that they could begin recruiting students as soon as they overtook the Ministry. They wanted me to do whatever I had to do to get your kids on our side…it was supposed to be the final step to swaying the public…we were going to have your kids saying horrible things about you…telling lies. People were supposed to think ‘if his kids hate him this much, he must be horrible’. But when they told me this over the summer, I told them that I wouldn’t do it. I told them that I wouldn’t do anything to help them. And they didn’t much like that.”

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from asking question upon question. He sensed that he needed to be patient. That she would tell him all he needed to know if only he gave her time.

“And I didn’t much care that they didn’t like that. They’d been punishing me with the Cruciatus Curse ever since my first year. I definitely wasn’t scared to die. There wasn’t much left for them to do to me. I didn’t even have my cat anymore because…when I was leaving for Hogwarts for my first year, I said I would tell a professor what they were doing, and he poisoned my cat and—” she sniffled against her running nose. Her eyes were still streaming. “They sent my—my nanny away, after eleven years, and things at home became so…horrific. And before I left for school this term they said…they said that if I didn’t help…if I told an adult or in any way interfered with their plans…that one of the other students involved here would torture all of my friends. He said ‘they’ll torture them until they can’t remember their own names’. And I…couldn’t bear it—I can’t bear it—please, can we be done?”

“Yes,” Harry said quickly. “Yes, we can be done. Thank you.”

Iset probably hadn’t heard his closing words. She was too busy weeping into Rose’s neck.

* * *

 

The horror of what he’d heard impacted him more than he’d expected. He didn’t have much to say when he reentered McGonagall’s office. His family and the Malfoys looked up from their tea. They stared at him. He stared back.

“Iset and Rose will be out in a bit,” he said. He pretended his voice wasn’t swaying on the brink of tears. “They’re just—they need to—” his vision blurred. His eyes were on fire. A flowery smell seeped into his senses a second later. A warm hand sank into his.

“Come on,” Ginny said softly. “Harry, come on. We’ll be back.”

She pulled him blindly along. They ended up tucked inside an archway in the Gargoyle Corridor, just a few steps away from the gargoyles guarding the Headmistress’s Office. Harry could feel the pressure of intermingled guilt and horror suffocating him. He hardly felt Ginny’s hands on his face.

“Harry, it’s all right,” she whispered.

“It’s not!” he said. He realized he was shaking only when Ginny set hands on his shoulders to steady him. “This is my fault. This—I never cared. I never thought about what would become of them—the ex-Death Eaters. I said—to hell with them, and hell is exactly where they went, and it’s where their children went—and nobody ever checked in on them, nobody cared, we just _let_ these evil people have children, we let them hurt them and abuse them and violate them—all that good we did during the war, and for what? For _what_?! In the end, it didn’t matter, because there are still children growing up like _this_!”

His words boomed throughout the stone corridor, loudly enough that the gargoyles gave surprised yelps. His wife did not flinch. 

“I—I let another generation get raised the way I was…worse than I was. More children went through that. I didn’t…I was so wrapped up in _me,_ in _us,_ in _our family_ , and all of this happened right underneath my nose, and I didn’t care. Ginny,” he sought her eyes in the dark. She was even blurrier now as hot tears overwhelmed his eyes. “Maybe they’ve been right all along-- the Death Eaters and their kids. I am selfish.”

“I love you, but that’s absolute rubbish.”

Harry gestured furiously towards the entrance to McGonagall’s office.

“Yeah? A good leader wouldn’t have done what I did—a _savior_ wouldn’t have let that happen, he would’ve…he would’ve…”

“Would have what, exactly?” Ginny asked. Harry looked away. He reached up and wiped bitterly at his damp cheeks. “Harry, you’re not a savior. You’re _Harry_. You aren’t responsible for every life in our world. You can’t be expected to save everybody all the time. People are going to get hurt.”

“But I was the one—Gin, _I was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement_! And before that, I was the Auror in charge of all of this—it was _my job_ to keep an eye on scum like Goyle, my job to make sure he wasn’t hurting anybody else, and I let him fall right through the cracks while he abused his daughter—his _daughter_ , Ginny! The things he did to her, to his child, I can’t—”

Harry broke off. For a moment, his entire chest was overwhelmed with emotion as he thought about the first time he’d held Lulu. Her wrinkled nose, the fragile yawn she’d given, her tiny fist closed around his thumb. He remembered shaking as he held her for the first time, as he had with all his children, because she felt so fragile and indestructible all at once—a soft, gentle sort of power, one that brought forth such protectiveness, such cherishment, that Harry would’ve died a million deaths just to keep her unharmed and happy. And to try and fathom how Goyle could have done what he’d done to his daughter…could have invaded her mind, made her murder her own pets (the only creatures she’d received any sort of affection from)….he thought he might be sick.

“I’m—I need the loo,” Harry said, his vision tilting.

“Harry,” Ginny said softly, alarmed. He felt her arm wrap tightly around his waist as he stumbled into the corridor. He doubled over, but thankfully, his nausea passed. For a few horrible moments, they just stood together in the middle of the corridor, Harry leaning over, Ginny with her arm loose around his waist.

“Whatever happened—whatever you found out—we’ll make it right. We’ll…find a way to handle it and we’ll move forward and we’ll learn from it.”

It was a narrowing of all his heaviest fears: the fear that Rita Skeeter was right, that he was nothing more than another corrupt power abuser after all; the fear that he’d helped to craft a world that would harm his children; the fear that he couldn’t really protect anyone after all, which meant he couldn’t really protect his own children. Couldn’t protect Jamie, couldn’t protect Al, couldn’t protect Lulu—

And here was a father who was entirely responsible for his child’s sufferings. And Harry was a father who feared being that man more than anything else.

“We’ve got to get back,” Harry said suddenly. He felt Ginny’s arms wrap around him; he folded into her embrace at once, his face pressing into her shoulder, his legs a bit shaky. “We need to talk to Hermione. We have to fix this. We have to make all of this right.”

“And we will,” she promised. Her fingers stroked through his hair. Harry relaxed further into her embrace. “But, Merlin, Harry. Breathe for a moment, okay?”

And he did. In and out, over and over, until his mind was steeped in Ginny’s flowery smell and his heart felt less raw.

* * *

 

Hermione arrived, yawning into a mug of coffee, her robes a bit twisted from being thrown quickly on top of her pajamas. She joined them at the conjured table. With Iset’s permission, Harry immediately sank into a painful retelling of all he’d found out. Everybody was deathly quiet.

“Iset,” Hermione said, once Harry finished. She reached out and took Iset’s hands. “I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Iset said at once.

Hermione shook her head. “You don’t have to worry anymore. You will never go back to your parents. Not ever again.”

“Dad?” Albus called. Harry glanced over at him; he and Scorpius were sitting nearly on top of each other, their seats shoved together, their hands intertwined tightly. “I want to know what you found out. I want to know about the dementors. I want to know about all of it. We know what they’re trying to do inside Hogwarts—but what are they doing outside of it?”

And so, for the second time, he began another lecture. He told his children, Scorpius, Nora, Iset, and Rose all about the things they’d found out. After Grey had sent new Aurors out to shadow Goyle, they’d realized that many past Death Eaters were Flooing in and out of the property often, enough that they had reason to believe that Goyle’s property was the headquarters. The Auror who had been killed using the Carrow’s curse was the Auror who’d shadowed the Selwyn family for the latter part of his career; Harry didn’t think it was a coincidence that Nielson Selwyn was spotted three separate times at the Goyle residence. With the sheer number of ex-Death Eaters coming and going (Rookwood, Mulciber, Yaxley, Alecto Carrow—freshly released from prison, Avery, Theodore Nott, Zabini—all coming and going through the Floo quietly and at separate times, so as not to arouse suspicion) Harry thought it was certain that they were responsible for the muggle-born attacks in Diagon Alley a few weeks prior. And going by that logic, they would’ve also had to have been the ones who’d sent the dementors, but _why_? Harry felt that they were right when it came to who was doing all of this, but he wasn’t convinced they knew the full story on _why_ they were yet.

“So they’re killing the Aurors that used to track them?” James asked.

“Perhaps,” Harry said.

“But…you tracked all of them before,” Lily pointed out. She actually sounded a bit frightened for once.

“Don’t worry about me,” Harry told her reassuringly. She didn’t _look_ reassured, though.

“But what about the dementors?” Nora asked. “I don’t understand. So there are loads of ex-Death Eaters getting up to no good together outside of Hogwarts. They recruit their Hogwarts-aged kids to start a rebellion here—even going so far as to try and brainwash your kids, Harry—and then they…release thousands of dementors on their own kids before they can complete their own mission?”

“They don’t care about their kids. Not really,” Iset pointed out.

There was a pause. It was broken by Hermione as she suddenly smacked her own forehead.

“Oh! I’m so—how could I have—Harry, Ginny, the Editor stopped _this_ from going through this morning—” she dug through her cloak pockets for a few moments but came up empty. “Oh, I must have left it in my office. It was another Skeeter article. They’re still taking her letters against my repeated advice not to. Rita found out that you’ve been teaching the students Patronuses all year—even the first years—and she tried to spin it like _you_ were responsible for the dementor attacks, as if you’d had it planned all term and that’s why you’d spent so long teaching such young children the charm.”

“But why would Harry—”

“Publicity stunt. Rita was claiming that you orchestrated it for the opportunity to ‘play the hero’ again, to try and distract the public from your ‘recently publicized shortcomings’.”

Ginny scowled. “I don’t go to work for one day and that’s what nearly happens? I’m going to have words for Grant tomorrow…”

“I get it,” Albus said suddenly. He locked eyes with Harry. “Dad, the dementors were _part_ of the Hogwarts plan. Skeeter is part of it! All these articles she’s been writing…they’re what have done the most damage. They want to assassinate your character…what better way than implying you’re so unstable you’d order a dementor attack on children just to get some attention?”

“But would the public believe Dad had the power to single-handedly control thousands of dementors?” James asked.

“No,” Albus said. “But the Ministry would have that power.”

“Do Goyle and his friends even have the power to control that many dementors?” asked Nora skeptically.

“Ordinarily, no. But if the dementors were starving…I’d say it’s highly likely,” Harry admitted. "They've been running out of food for quite some time now. I'm sure they remember how much better things were beneath Voldemort. They're desperate." He was trying to make sense of all the new theories.

“Maybe they were trying to kill Uncle Harry with the dementors?” Rose suggested.

“No, everybody knows Harry can do a great Patronus; it’s in every book about him,” Scorpius said.

The group fell into silence again as everybody wracked their brains.

“Maybe it’s simpler than all of this,” Ginny suggested. “Maybe this was a ‘show of force’ move more than anything else. An intimidation tactic, even. If they show the public they’re a strong enough group of Dark Witches and Wizards to control that many dementors, maybe they could win over reluctant ex-Death Eaters who aren’t taking them seriously. Or perhaps this was an intimidation tactic for those students here who are refusing to join in—Caden Rowle, Iset, Scorpius?”

“I feel like we’re missing something huge,” Hermione said, frustrated. “I just can’t figure out what it could be.”

“The timing is weird,” Albus piped up. All the adults turned to look at him. “I mean, think about it. He waited this long to do anything at all. Why? Iset said he didn’t start this until late this summer. Why? What happened this summer?”

Harry glanced towards Iset. She gnawed on her lower lip as she thought.

“The Auror stopped following my dad at the end of the summer,” she began.

Harry nodded. “Right when Grey took over. What else?”

“People started coming over more often in the Floo…their Death Eater friends.”

“Were these friends you’d seen before? Or were there new ones?”

“Most of them I recognized, either from previous visits or photos…” Iset trailed off, her brow furrowed. “There was one new one, though. The Carrow woman…Alecto Carrow. I’d never seen her before this summer.”

“Because she was in Azkaban,” Harry explained at once. “She was let out in late August. Against my wishes.”

Iset nodded. “She started visiting, and then others started visiting, and around the same time the Auror stopped following my dad.”

“In that order?” Ginny asked curiously. “That specific order—first Alecto Carrow and then the others?”

Iset pursed her brow as she thought. “Yes…I think so.”

Harry frowned.

“Perhaps she was seeking revenge for her brother’s death in Azkaban?” Draco suggested.

“Possibly. But this is quite an organized effort for that,” Harry said.

“She had quite an unusual bond with her brother,” Ginny shot back.

“What’s her end game, in that case?” James wondered. “Because this seems like a bit much if she’s just trying to off you, Dad.”

“Yeah...” Harry agreed. His head was beginning to ache. He wished Ron was with them; Ron always had a way of rewording the things they already knew in a way that triggered new thoughts. “Unless she’s trying to make me suffer by getting at my family. Maybe that’s why she wanted Iset to get to my children. Maybe that’s why everything the students here have done has centered around you lot—Scorpius getting Imperiused, Caden Rowle getting Imperiused, Nora getting cornered by the dementors...”

“I think most of those efforts were an attempt to get _all_ the Death Eaters’ kids on the same side,” Rose pointed out. “And Nora was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Harry shook his head, frustrated. “We’re still missing something—a massive piece.”

“We should find it,” Lily said.

Harry glanced at Iset. “You’re sure you can’t remember anything else?”

She frowned. “No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ginny told her softly. “You’ve done great, Iset.”

“Really, Dad,” Lily persisted. “We should find what we’re missing.”

“Yeah, we’ll get right on that, Lulu,” Harry said distractedly. He wished he had a blackboard. He felt that writing down all of these events would help to find a pattern between them.

“You’re not listening to me, Dad,” Lily complained.

Harry glanced back at her. “What, Lily?”

“I know how we can find the missing piece.”

She had everybody’s attention now. She seemed to sit taller because of it.

“…How?” Harry asked.

“They wanted Iset to corrupt us, right? Get us on their side?” she began.

He felt uneasy, though he wasn’t sure why. “Right…”

“And they’ve Imperiused Caden and Scorpius and Iset trying to get to us, which proves they _really_ want us involved in all of this.”

“Possibly,” he agreed.

“So,” Lily continued. She drained the last of her mug and set it down hard on the table top. “We need to infiltrate.”

Harry stared. Rose sighed, exasperated. Scorpius gave a nervous chuckle.

“What?” Harry said flatly.

“I’m a great liar, Dad,” Lily said.

He realized what she was getting at. He recoiled, horrified.

“Absolutely _not_!” he yelled.

“Lily,” Ginny admonished. “Not a chance.”

“But it could work, Mum! Listen. Please, just listen, Dad, okay?!” Lily pleaded.

Harry had to force himself to nod. His hands were clenched into tight fists.

“They want all the Death Eater relatives and they want the Potters. We need somebody to go into their group and figure out what we’re missing. We can’t send Iset because she’s made it crystal clear where she stands, and it’d be too suspicious; plus, she _just_ threw off their Imperius Curse. We can’t send Scorpius because his dad’s the new Conflict Counselor, _he_ just evaded an Imperius Curse, and it's clear he’s anti-Death Eaters. We can’t send James because nobody in their right mind would ever believe that James would turn against his family. We can’t send Albus because he was nearly murdered by them, and I don’t think they’d believe he forgot that so easily. That leaves _me_.”

“No!” Harry repeated.

“But, Dad! What does the school know about me? A: I’m extremely powerful for my age. B: I get into detention a lot. C: I was recently locked out of Gryffindor Tower for doing an Unforgivable Curse with Caden Rowle, and since Zabini knew that I was _great_ at the Imperius from overhearing a conversation I had with Caden, he probably told the rest of them that I’ve got a talent for Dark Magic. And D: I’m frustrated with being treated like a baby—I whine about it enough, I’m sure most people have heard. It’s not only believable that I’d be the one to give the Dark Side a try…it’s logical.”

“There is no sodding way I am going to let you put yourself in the midst of these people when they have used Unforgivables on your brothers and Scorpius!” Harry exclaimed, outraged. “No! Absolutely _not_!”

“Mum!” Lily complained.

“Don’t ‘Mum’ me!” Ginny shot back. She sounded equally exasperated. “Of all the reckless suggestions!”

“But it won’t be reckless! You lot can be nearby. You can use Extendable Ears to listen in! I’ll get in, find out what I need to know, and get out! I can bring Caden with me for backup—”

“NO! And I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” Harry shouted. Lily glared.

“Then you’re being a coward! Because we could find out what we need to know this way! You’re just too afraid to put me in danger!” she snapped.

“Oh, I’m a coward, am I? For wanting to protect my child?!”

“Yes, because _I CAN DO IT, DAD_ —”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Lily,” Albus interrupted. “Because they hurt your best friend and you had plenty to say about that very publically.”

“Well of course I’d take issue with my best friend being attacked; that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give the Dark Arts a spin—”

“Enough!” Ginny exclaimed.

Then, to Harry’s outrage, Draco said: “She’s got a point, Ginny.”

Harry rounded on Draco. “Sorry?!”

“They’re clearly interested in your kids. Lily has already shown an interest in the Dark Arts. It could work.”

“No, it most certainly could _not_ work!” Harry raged. “You don’t get to say what will or won’t work when it comes to _my child’s_ safety!”

“You got to make that call earlier when it came to _my child_ ’s safety!” Draco snapped.

“That is different and you know it! You wanted to storm off to find Avery yourself and there is a certain way we have to do things! You don’t hear me suggesting _Scorpius_ put himself in the line of fire to get information!”

“Scorpius couldn’t, it wouldn’t be believable!”

“Oh, and that’s the only reason he couldn’t, is it?! You and I both know that if I even suggested it you’d have crawled down my throat—”

“Don’t tempt me, Potter!”

“I’ll do what I please, Malfoy!”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake—would the both of you _shut up_?!” Ginny yelled. Her cry rang throughout the office. Harry ground his teeth and looked away from Draco’s face. In the current moment, he was so irritated with him that even the sight of his pointed chin made him want to hex him.

“You two bickering like schoolboys does nothing to help this situation whatsoever,” she scolded. Harry rubbed the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

“Can I, Mum? _Please_?” Lily asked again.

“Lily, no. Your dad and I can’t…you have to understand, love, it’s not that we don’t trust your abilities—”

“Oh, rubbish, Mum! ‘You have to understand, love’ anytime you pull out the ‘love’ I know you’re just trying to console me!”

“I _am_ trying to console you,” agreed Ginny. She maintained calmness, but Harry could tell there was irritation lurking low. “But it’s also the truth. We have tremendous faith in your abilities, Lily. It’s those kids we don’t trust. Look what happened to Albus in a split second. We can’t risk something like that happening again.”

“Well, it’s going to happen again. No matter what. If you don’t get answers now, it’s just going to keep happening.”

“Then we’ll deal with it when it does. But we won’t put you at risk.”

“I’m already at risk.”

“Lily, let it go,” Harry warned. She locked eyes with him and parted her lips, seemingly ready to disregard his request, but after a long moment she merely ground her teeth and snatched her mug up. She stared down at the emptiness—Harry guessed she’d forgotten that she’d already drank it all. Her eye twitched. James quickly pulled her mug from her hands and replaced it with his half-full one. Lily took a deep sip as if nothing had happened.

“More plans will need to be made,” Hermione spoke up. She stood—most everybody else did the same. “Harry, I need you at the Ministry tomorrow. Draco, you as well, with the law drafts you and Ginny have been working on. Ginny—somebody has got to deal with Grant within the _Prophet_ offices and nobody else there has the nerve to do it, so I need you to actually work at the office tomorrow.”

Ginny groaned. “Do I _have_ to? I can’t stand the lot of them and Grant and I aren’t really on speaking terms. He’s in the broomshed.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got to, unless you want Skeeter sneaking more articles in. I’m only one person.”

Harry glanced to McGonagall. “What about my classes?”

She frowned. “I might live to regret this suggestion, but…James. Are there any fellow N.E.W.T. level students who might want to join you in substituting for your father?”

James’s eyes widened. Without a second’s pause, he pointed excitedly at Nora, who’d already raised her dark, slender hand right into the air. McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

“Can you two focus on the students rather than each other?”

“Of course!” James said.

“James Who?” Nora agreed.

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” James grinned.

“What’s a boy?” Nora added.

McGonagall sighed. “Oh, all right, then. Harry, I trust you’ll give them detailed instructions?”

Harry—torn between excitement on James’s behalf for something he knew he’d really enjoy and apprehension for how he’d be received by the class—nodded uncertainly.

“And Avery?” Albus demanded. “What about Avery?”

McGonagall and Hermione exchanged a long look.

“I think,” McGonagall finally said, “for the time being, as long as the Minister is okay with holding off, that we might let the Conflict Counselor handle this one.”

Albus gave an outraged cry. "He Imperiuses Scorpius and his punishment is tea with Draco?!" 

"He  _will_ be punished. Everybody here who has done Dark Magic maliciously will be. But haven't you been listening, Albus? This goes deeper than we know. We have to make measured moves now," Harry said. 

“Er…” Scorpius said, his eyes darting to his dad. “Isn’t there a conflict of interest here? Because I’m my dad's son? And he loves me? And Avery used Dark Magic on me? Should he really be the one dealing with Avery?"

“I trust that Draco can hold his temper,” Hermione said. She looked to Draco. “Can you?”

Draco crossed his arms. “Of course I can. But what exactly am I supposed to do? I can’t even give detention.”

“Mandatory daily counseling sessions is what you'll tell him his punishment is,” McGonagall said. "I want you to use that time to keep a close eye on him and his moods. And take diligent notes. If you can get a confession from him-- even better." 

“Sounds like punishment to me,” Harry muttered underneath his breath. Ginny smacked his ribs lightly.

“And Gregory Goyle?” Rose asked. Harry looked over towards her. She and Iset were standing close behind Hermione. “What about him?”

Hermione turned around to observe her daughter and Iset.

“ _I_ will handle that,” she promised softly. “Before it’s time for Christmas holidays, he will be arrested and facing trial, and we will find other arrangements for Iset until she’s of age. Assuming that’s what you want, Iset?”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” Iset confirmed at once. “I don’t want to go home ever again. I don’t even want my things.”

Hermione nodded. She reached out and wrapped an arm around Rose and her other around Iset.

“Let’s talk about where you might like to go for holidays until you’re of age,” she said. And with that, the three of them left the office, presumably to drop Iset off in the Hufflepuff Basement, and Rose off at Gryffindor Tower.

Harry was beginning to feel the weight of the late hour, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to send his kids off on their own. Especially not now that he knew they were at least somewhat targets. He turned and reached for Ginny’s warm hand. He pulled her to the side.

“I don’t want them off alone,” he began.

“Nor do I. Sleepover?”

“I’ll do my best to sell it.” Harry stepped back towards the table. “Lily, James, Albus, Nora, Scorpius—why don’t you stay in our living quarters tonight? Just until we can get an idea of where Avery is at mentally.”

“Can Aster come?!” Lily asked at once. Harry sighed.

“Sure, Lily. You two can have the spare bedroom; Remy—the portrait bloke—would visit his other portrait for a while if we ask nicely.”

“Nora and I want the room with Marcus the Mirror,” James requested at once. “We want some unbiased feedback.”

“Over my dead body,” Ginny said. “Marcus the Mirror is still unfit for company. Your dad and I will take that room—”

Harry groaned. “We will?”

“You two can stay in the living room. We can transfigure the sofas into beds for Albus and Scorpius.”

“They can stay with me,” Draco offered. “I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

Scorpius nodded. He drifted over to Draco’s side (pulling Albus along with him, because Albus _still_ refused to be parted from his touch). “I’ll go with my dad.”

“And I’ll go with Scorpius,” Albus added.

Harry was starting to get the feeling that this experience was going to impact Albus more than it’d impacted Scorpius.

* * *

 

“All right,” Ginny said. She finished changing the bedding on their living room bed and turned to look sternly at James and Nora—now clad in their matching pajamas (Halloween themed with smiling pumpkins…where the hell did they get these?). “Sleep well. I’ve put the water jug on the counter. James and Nora— no shagging in communal living spaces.”

“Ew,” Aster giggled. Lily made a gagging noise and pointed at Nora and James. James, on the other hand, grinned and whispered something to Nora that Harry didn’t catch. She reached up and caressed his bottom lip with her thumb in response, her gaze lovesick and vaguely nauseating.

“No, James, you cannot ‘make love’ in communal living spaces either, so put the cheekiness on simmer for the night,” Ginny deadpanned.

“’MAKE LOVE’,” Lily quoted gleefully. She snickered. “That’s so disgusting, _Jamie-Baby,_ I can’t believe you actually said that. Who the fu—”

“Lily Luna Potter!” Harry warned.

Lily huffed. “Dad, I can’t express myself if I can’t swear, and Aunt Hermione always says that teenagers who can’t express themselves to their parents end up—”

“Aunt Hermione says a lot about parenting,” Ginny interrupted. “Good night, loves.”

“There goes that ‘love’ again,” Lily murmured to Aster. “You’d think I’m an infant or a Pygmy Puff or a dragon.”

“Absolutely,” Aster whispered back.

Ginny kneaded over her temples. She turned to Harry. “I’m going to bed.”

“Take me with you,” Harry said quickly. He had no interest in remaining in here with his sassy children. “‘Night, sleep well, kids.” He hesitated. “And…your mum was serious about what she said, James.”

“Relax…we’ve got _some_ boundaries, Dad.”

“…Right…” Harry muttered. He shot them one last suspicious look and then stepped back into the Umbridge Bedroom after Ginny. He stopped in place moments after walking through the doorway, because at some point, his wife had conjured another bed. It was wedged between the end of Umbridge’s old bed and the wardrobe.

“Oh,” he said. He nodded. “Good thinking.”

“I do that, from time to time.”

“Thank Merlin one of us does.”

He set about stripping from his clothes. Ginny—already changed into her pajamas—stretched out atop the blankets on her stomach, her chin rested in her palms as she waited for him. Harry paused.

“Enjoying the show?” he teased.

“Avidly,” she said. “But I’d like a bit more hip action.”

He grinned. He leaned over and grabbed the nearest pillow. He threw it at her, but she caught it easily; damn Chasing reflexes.

“Take the trousers off!” she called.

“Shh-- the kids will hear you!” Harry shot back, but his words were cushioned with laughter. Ginny only made him laugh harder when she whistled as he unbuttoned his trousers.

“He’s not _that_ impressive, dear,” Marcus the Mirror snorted.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. She waved her wand and sent the pillows from Umbridge’s bed flying over at the mirror. They piled themselves up until the mirror was entirely obscured.

“I hate that mirror,” Ginny muttered crossly.

Harry didn’t mind it so much anymore. He had begun tuning it out completely. But Ginny still took personal offense whenever it commented negatively about him.

He pulled his pajama bottoms on, tugged an old t-shirt over his head, and then joined Ginny on the surprisingly comfortable bed. He reached for her as she reached for him; they let out simultaneous sighs as they curled up together.

“You _are_ that impressive,” Ginny murmured, her hands staking claim over his thigh and bum. Harry grinned into her collarbone.

“I think you’re a bit biased.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “ _Witch Weekly’s_ best bum, 2003.”

“I still believe Krum should’ve won that year.”

“If you really think that you need new glasses.”

Harry leaned back and gave Ginny an exasperated look. She laughed. The way it made her face light up made him want to squirm with delight. He let that tenderness sweep him under; he gently pressed her against the mattress and kissed her laughing mouth. His glasses pressed painfully into his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he kissed her cheek, her jawline, down her neck. He mapped out her skin beneath her pajama top, even if he’d long ago learned it by heart. He thought about her arms around him today, about all the times her arms had been around him during his lowest points. He sought her lips again, and after another lingering kiss, he lifted up just enough to peer into her eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she shot back with a grin.

He scoffed. “That’s nice.”

“It is,” she teased. She craned her neck up and met his lips again. “Clearly I love you and your 2003 Best Bum right back.”

He smiled at her as she lowered her head back down onto the mattress. Her hair fanned out around her, a splash of impossible brightness against the gray bedding. He rolled over and lay beside her, his fingers pulling idly through her hair as he studied the profile of her face and thought about their long day. The Quidditch match that morning felt like it’d happened weeks ago. He was tired of long days.

“What are we going to do?” he finally asked.

She turned over onto her side. She pushed her hand beneath the pillow and studied his eyes.

“Whatever we can do, I suppose.”

“Our children aren’t safe, Ginny. Not as long as Goyle’s got a little army in here. But we can’t expel all of them without proof…it would start a riot and make tensions even worse. But until they’re gone, our kids and their friends are in danger.”

She frowned. He watched her eyes dim. He reached up and set his hand against her cheek. She studied his eyes as he stroked over her cheekbone. “I know,” she finally admitted.

Harry’s throat narrowed. “I think we’re going to have to make some terrible choices soon.”

Ginny sucked in her bottom lip in worry. Her brow furrowed. “I’ve been feeling that way, too.”

Harry ignored the burning behind his eyes. He leaned in and kissed her, distracting her from the nervous lip-biting she’d begun. He held her face gently in his hands and shut his eyes, trying his hardest to fall into the taste of her (and to let everything but that fall away), but no matter how hard he tried, his heart was still heavy with worry. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her—sometimes (like now) it was all he thought on repeat. But it was a repetition born from panic that night because all the things he loved—they could become weapons.

And their children. Had anybody ever loved anything as much as they loved their children? Harry doubted it. If it were so, the world would have been much different.

He pulled his lips from hers. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and held her so closely that her ribs were pressed painfully into his. “If things get bad again—if we can’t stop it—if this world becomes a risk—”

“We get the kids out,” Ginny finished.

Harry nodded, relieved. “Yes. Far away. We keep them safe.”

* * *

 

Harry woke to Eoforwine’s snuffling squeaks in his ear. He groaned and stretched out his legs, reaching up for the tickling Pygmy Puff trying to nest against his hairline.

“No,” he complained. He held the red puffball up in the air above his face. He squinted at it, though it was blurry due to his missing glasses. “Who let you in here?”

A familiar purring noise nearby answered his question. He turned his head to the side and squinted towards it. The black mound that was Zephyros, their cat who had mastered the art of opening doors, was the answer.

“Bloody cats,” Harry complained. He stretched his arm across the bed, searching for Ginny, but he came up empty. He frowned. “Gin?”

He sat up and peered around the room. He didn’t spot her, but he was able to discern the roaring sound of the running bath from over Zephyros’s oddly loud purrs. He was suddenly very awake. He set Eoforwine down on the pillow, rose, and stretched his arms above his head as he walked to the adjoining bathroom. He was yawning as he walked into it. Ginny had her head resting on the ledge. She didn’t open her eyes, but he saw her lips quirk up.

“It’s like magic,” she greeted. “Run a bath and Harry will appear.”

“Depends on who’s in the bath,” he shot back, his words still thick with exhaustion. “You? Definitely. Ron? Not so much.”

“So you say,” she said. Her eyelids fluttered opened as he fought from his pajamas. “Good morning.”

“It _is_ a good morning,” he agreed. He stepped tentatively into the massive bath. The water was hotter than he’d expected; it burned like hot pinpricks against his feet and calf, but he forced himself to step all the way in it and ease down. He grimaced. “Bit hot, don’t you think?”

“Complainers have to leave the bathtub.”

“Not complaining, just a…pained observation.” He waded over towards her, growing accustomed to the water with every passing second. He looped his arms around her waist as soon as he was close enough. She let her head fall against his shoulder. Her wet hair stuck to his skin. “It’s been ages since we’ve had a bath together. Forever.”

He didn’t have to look down at her to know she was rolling her eyes. “It’s nice to finally know that ‘forever’ means precisely ‘one week’.”

“That’s a long time,” Harry defended. “All these past traumas have really built up in my mind; it needs a good scrubbing.”

He felt her hand creep up his back. “Well,” she began, her voice low and sultry. His heart rate picked up. “In that case…” her hands grasped the back of his head. He waited with baited breath for her kiss…only to find himself plunging underneath the water a second later. He made a sound of complaint from underneath the water, sending bubbles flying up to the surface. When he resurfaced with a glare, she heaped shampoo atop his hair. His playful annoyance dwindled as she massaged the shampoo into his scalp.

“I thought you were going to snog me,” he finally complained.

“You said you needed a good scrubbing, Harry, not a good snogging.”

“I was clearly joking…I was _clearly_ referencing sex, Ginny.”

“No sex in communal areas, remember?”

“Arg,” he lamented. “We shot ourselves in the foot with that one.”

“It’s a good thing we’re the parents and we can both make and destroy whatever rules we want to whenever we deem fit.”

“Good point,” Harry grinned. “Besides, the bathroom off our bedroom isn’t really communal.”

“Certainly not. So we’re not hypocrites.”

“‘Course we’re not. We’re brilliant role models.”

“…I dunno if I’d go _that_ far, Harry. At best we’re lovable though often misguided.”

“I’ll take it.”

* * *

 

Harry tentatively stepped into the living room once he was fully dressed. He peered cautiously around the cramped room. When he spotted James stretched out atop the blankets, still in his pumpkin pajamas, his DADA books in his lap, he relaxed.

“Our child hasn’t corrupted his innocence in full view,” Harry called to Ginny.

“Oh, that’s a relief.”

Harry crossed over towards the tiny attached kitchen.

“Morning, James,” he greeted, with another glance towards the bed. James looked up from the book.

“Morning, Dad!” He lowered the book and then pointed at the other side of the bed. “Look at how beautiful my girlfriend is.”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “James, I’m not comfortable commenting on my students’ physical appearances.”

James was still looking at Nora (who was sleeping peacefully, her head leaning against James’s arm, three cats snoozing atop her) with the most violently lovesick expression Harry had ever seen. He shook his head in amazement.

“You’re really going to marry her, aren’t you?” he realized.

“In my mind, I already have,” James shrugged. “But yeah, I want to make it official, and I wouldn’t mind a wedding reception. Especially the cake.”

Harry laughed fondly. “You’re lucky, you know. Very rarely do people find the person they love so easily.”

“I’m lucky for a lot of reasons. I never forget that and I’m always thankful for it.”

“A diplomatic answer,” Harry commented. But then again, James was an effortlessly diplomatic boy when he wanted to be. Harry considered it one of his gifts—it was certainly a gift he’d never had himself. Not for the first time, he was momentarily arrested by pride in his eldest. He wanted to tell him that…he wanted to say:  _James, I’m so proud of you all the time, despite whatever silly mistakes you make. I’m so proud that you’re my son_. But he was embarrassed to say them aloud in such an otherwise casual moment. So instead he said: “I think you’ll do a great job teaching my classes today.”

James beamed. “Thanks, Dad.”

* * *

 

Harry paced in front of the blackboard in Hermione’s office. On it, Hermione had just finished writing:

**_Alecto Carrow is released from Azkaban – Amycus Carrow dies in Azkaban – ? – Carrow meets with Goyle – Aurors stop shadowing Goyle – Goyle and Carrow recruit (but with what? Why? How?) – Goyle threatens daughter to turn Potter children against parents – Skeeter begins writing articles against the Ministry – Albus Potter is cursed – Auror who used to trail Selwyn is murdered – students are Imperiused – Muggle-borns are attacked in Diagon Alley…on the same day, dementors attack Hogwarts, murdering another Auror – Scorpius Malfoy and Iset Goyle are Imperiused on the same day_ **

“I think you’re looking into this too much, mate,” Ron commented. He was sitting on Hermione’s desk and working his way through the bowl of sweets atop it. “It all makes sense if you look at it this way: they’re all absolutely off their trolleys.”

“No,” he insisted. “We’re missing something.”

“We have to be,” Hermione agreed, frustrated. She sighed. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah…because they are psychotic Death Eaters,” Ron insisted.

“Psychotic or not, they’ve got a plan, and seeing how much they’ve managed to do already…it must make some sense.” Harry walked over and joined Ron atop Hermione’s desk. He nabbed a sweet.

“Oi!” Ron complained.

“These aren’t yours.”

“They are so! What’s hers is mine; we said a vow about that and everything!”

Harry ignored Ron and popped the sweet into his mouth. Ron called him something decidedly not-nice underneath his breath. Harry snickered.

“Okay…” Hermione came to a stop in front of the blackboard. She bit at her nail as she observed her own writing. “What on here makes the least amount of sense?”

“Dementors.”

“Going after my kids.”

Harry and Ron exchanged a look after their simultaneously different answers.

“No, you’re wrong, it’s definitely the dementors.”

“It’s _definitely_ targeting my kids…”

“I don’t think it’s either of those,” Hermione continued. “What doesn’t make sense to me is _this_.” She pointed at “Carrow meets with Goyle”. “Why those two? Why Goyle? Why Carrow?”

Harry shrugged. “Goyle is a great follower. I’m sure Carrow remembered that from her time at Hogwarts. Carrow was angry.”

“So Goyle waits all these years because he’s waiting for Carrow to get out of prison?” Hermione asked.

“The Carrows always struck me as followers,” Ron admitted.

“I guess Goyle probably thought they were leaders because they controlled Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, but they weren’t _really_ in charge. They were doing it all for He- Voldemort,” Ron said. “I just don’t know if Carrow would want to be the leader. And if Carrow _was_ the leader…you’d think she’d just want revenge for her brother. This is much more than that, clearly…”

Hermione sighed. “So _why_ Carrow and why Goyle? We’re missing a connection…that’s got to be it…”

“If it’s not all about her brother, why did they wait so long?” Harry wondered. “I mean, if this all were in retaliation to Amycus’s death, it’d make sense that it just started, because he only just died this summer. But, like Ron said—seems like a lot to just be about that. So why did they wait until now?”

“Because Alecto has been in prison. It couldn’t have started before now,” Hermione reminded him.

“So she gets out of prison…somehow finds Goyle…they decide to start a rebirth of Death Eaters…” Harry trailed off.

“Which brings me right back to: _why Goyle_?” Hermione said with a sigh.

“Maybe he visited her in prison?” Ron suggested. “Got lonely without another brainless, scummy idiot to talk to. Do we have the Azkaban visiting logs?”

Both Hermione and Harry snapped their heads in Ron’s direction. Harry grinned while Hermione just looked at him dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asked, shrugging.

Harry was still grinning. “Nothing, mate. You’re just an irreplaceable part of this trio.”

“You’re _brilliant_ , Ron,” Hermione gushed. She crossed over, stepped between Ron’s parted legs, held his face, and kissed him soundly on the lips. Harry’s grin grew. “I’m going to get those records right now!”

Ron watched her go, a dazed smile in place.

“I dunno why she’s so happy with me, but I’m not going to question it,” Ron admitted.

“Always best not to,” Harry agreed. His thoughts strayed to his morning with Ginny. His grin grew. She had certainly seemed happy with him…and he had definitely not questioned it…

“What are you smiling like that for?” Ron demanded, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What? Nothing,” Harry said quickly. He checked his battered wristwatch. “Want to get lunch?”

“I always want to get lunch.”

“Great. Let’s grab something and go see if Gin managed to stop herself from committing murder.”

“Doubt it.”

* * *

 

She had managed to keep from killing her colleagues—but only just. When they stepped into the main office of the _Prophet_ , Ginny and a handful of others were sitting in chairs grouped in the center of the room, seemingly taking notes as the Editor lectured. A blackboard was hovering beside him and a piece of enchanted chalk was writing’ _journalistic integrity’_ over and over again. Harry had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from bursting into laughter, but he didn’t manage to stifle the choking sound that repression caused. Nobody else seemed to hear it, but Ginny did. She looked up from her parchment and glanced his way. She grinned. He smiled back. Ron lifted their bag of takeaway. Her smile grew.

“Now I will dedicate the next ten minutes to questions—yes, Ginny?” the Editor asked. Ginny’s hand had risen immediately.

“Just wondering—if you’re concerned about journalist integrity, why do you publish Rita Skeeter? Why is she still technically employed even though she’s awaiting trial?”

The Editor sighed. He gave her a very sour look. “Ginny, we discussed this privately already.”

“I wasn’t satisfied with your answer.”

“Rita remains a longtime colleague despite our artistic differences.”

“Artistic differences? Really?” Ginny demanded, her voice dry. “Wanting to write your article in the voice of a dog is an artistic difference. Slandering people in our community for decades is not an ‘artistic difference’.”

“Here we go…” a colleague sighed.

Ginny gestured towards the colleague. “Yes, exactly, Druen. Druen understands. Here we go, right now—I want answers.”

“And I’ve given you one! Just because you don’t like the style of Rita’s writing—”

“Okay, look. I know you’re a clever man. You’ve done loads of clever things since you’ve taken over. But how can you look me in the eye and say that after spending the past hour lecturing us on the importance of journalistic integrity? Rita wouldn’t know journalistic integrity if it bent her over the—”

“Ginny, we’re done discussing this.”

“Oh, we are? Sorry, I forgot that you control both of our wants and desires.”

“What are you even doing here?” the Editor finally demanded. “If you hate the _Prophet_ so much, what are you doing here? Quit! Merlin knows you don’t need the money.”

“I’m clearly here for the fabulous company, Grant.” The Editor glowered in response. A few colleagues looked affronted. “I’m here because somebody needs to keep this paper in check—”

“You’re here to stifle free speech, you mean?” another colleague commented slyly.

Ginny side-eyed him. “Aren’t you missing Gobstones hour, Jonathon? Your desk must be getting lonely without you there to sit at it doing nothing.”

“I…do things!” Jonathon offended, though his face had turned bright red.

“I don’t think Gobstones, muggle card tricks, and yourself count.”

Ron cackled, amused. Harry pulled his glasses off and rubbed wearily over his eyes.

“I…that was _one time, Ginny, and I publically apologized!”_ Jonathon stage-whispered. “The fact remains that you and our Minister have a lot of problems with free speech.”

“We’ve got problems with harassment. And I’ve got a problem with the low caliber of our reporting.”

“We’ll meet again to discuss this specific…issue. How’s that, Ginny?” Grant offered.

“Sure, fine,” Ginny said coolly. She pointed at Harry. “I’m taking my lunch break.” She paused. “And if one of you even _thinks_ about writing an article about that and using my words literally, I will lose my mind.”

Ginny walked over, grabbed both Harry and Ron by the crooks of their elbows, and dragged them out of the office. Ron was confused.

“How else would they take those words?”

Ginny and Harry exchanged an amused look.

“Nothing, Ron,” Ginny said. “How was your day, boys?”

“Better than yours from the looks of it. Journalistic integrity?”

“Ha! What a bloody joke,” she said bitterly.

“You looked diligent enough, taking notes and all,” Ron sniggered.

“Notes? Not quite.”

She passed the roll of parchment to Ron. He unrolled it. His eyes scanned the words as he read aloud: “‘The code of ethics for journalists demands we be honest, courageous, and fair, unless we’re Grant and we’ve got a massive stiffy for Rita Skeeter and her talon-nails, in which case we can repeatedly screw over whoever we please in our quest to have Skeeter’s talon-nailed hand around our—'  _Ginny_!”

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s filthy!”

“Filthy…and true.”

“How would you like me to give this to Mum?” Ron challenged.

Ginny stiffened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I think you ought to have your mouth Scourgified, Ginevra!”

“Ronald, you give that back to me now or I swear—”

Ron made to shove the parchment into his trouser pocket. Ginny leaped around Harry and jumped onto Ron, taking him off guard enough to nearly bring him down to the floor.

“Give it here!” she demanded

“No!”

“Harry!”

“Harry!”

Harry slowly backed away. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

He led the way back to Hermione’s office with Ron and Ginny fighting behind him the entire way. When they entered, Harry was surprised to see Hermione standing tensely in front of the blackboard.

“Er…everything all right, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“You’re back early, Hermione!” Ron said happily. “Good thing I bought you lunch, too.”

“Hermione?” Ginny asked. She dropped down from Ron’s back and released his neck from the previous chokehold. Ron let her ‘notes’ fall to the floor, now entirely focused on Hermione.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked.

After a long moment, Hermione finally turned around. She stared at them.

“I figured out what we’re missing.”

“Yeah? Brilliant!” Ron beamed. He waited. “Er…what is it?”

Hermione walked over to her desk and lifted a massive book. She carried it over to them, flipping through the pages.

“Start here,” she told them. “Last year.”

There had to have been hundreds upon hundreds of rows and columns. Harry’s eyes burned from studying it for even a moment.

It was Ginny who spotted it first.

“Oh _bollocks_ ,” she groaned.

“What?” Ron demanded. He leaned closer to the pages, so his nose was nearly touching it. “What do you see?”

Ginny reached down and pressed her finger to a row halfway down the page. _Riddle, Delphini._

“Yeah, we put her there,” Ron shrugged.

“Look at her visitors,” Ginny said.

Harry slid his eyes down the row. _Alecto Carrow…Alecto Carrow…Alecto Carrow…_

“They were imprisoned at the same time,” he realized. He looked up and locked eyes with Hermione. She looked faint. _“_ Delphi must’ve told Alecto who she is…Ron is right—the Carrows are followers _._ And they must’ve decided to follow _Delphi_.”

“She’s just a kid…” Ron argued weakly.

“She’s Voldemort’s kid. They’re so desperate for a resurgence that they’ll take what they can get,” Ginny said bitterly. “This is bad.”

“You were sort of right, Ron,” Hermione admitted. “We _were_ thinking into it too hard. There _is_ a simple answer. Everything they’re doing is to prepare a following for _Delphi_.”

“But Delphi is in prison,” Ginny reminded them.

“Plenty of people have broken out of Azkaban before,” Harry reminded her. His head was spinning. “That’s how they got so many Death Eaters to join their cause. That’s how they got all of those dementors.”

“And Rita is locked up there with the lot of them,” Ginny realized. “Harry…you don’t think…?”

“I think Rita would join whatever side could offer her the best deal. It’s possible,” Harry agreed. “She’s certainly done the most damage…she’s turned the public against us the most, _especially_ with her article she wrote in Azkaban. I’ll bet she’s being commissioned or bribed or _something_.”

“Okay,” Ron said. He laughed, but it was a nervous, shaky sound. “So…the Death Eaters found out that Voldemort has a daughter. They are…coming together again to join her. They’ve got dementors at their control. They have the public turning against us. Okay. Bad. This is…bad. What are we going to do?”

He looked hopefully from Harry’s face, to Hermione’s, to Ginny’s. Nobody said anything for a while.

“Well, it hasn’t spiraled completely out of control yet,” Ginny finally pointed out. “If we leave it alone...it looks like war…smells like…a war. But we caught on early. We’ve got a chance to stop it before it starts.”

“How?” Hermione wondered.

“How?! Blimey, I don’t know, you’re the Minister! I edit the sports pages of a rubbish newspaper-turned-tabloid!”

“Right, right…” Hermione muttered under her breath. She began pacing again. “We’ll need a multi-faceted approach… _they’re_ taking a multi-faceted approach…we’ll need to figure out precisely who is involved both in Hogwarts and outside of it, get enough information on them to charge them, and arrest them…while we’re doing that, we have to continue trying to improve relations between the public and the Ministry…between the ex-Death Eaters and the public…a new department—that’s what we need. I’ve been thinking on it for some time. A Department of Social Relations and Services. What happened with Iset Goyle…what’s happened with all of these children of ex-Death Eaters…it could’ve been avoided…”

Ron glanced at Harry. “I think Hermione’s finally lost it.”

Hermione continued her rant, though Harry was certain it was mostly just her thinking aloud to herself. “We must continue updating the laws…especially those surrounding the privacy of ex-Death Eaters…free speech laws must be continually updated…we must get more diverse in our hiring—but there aren’t that many relatives of ex-Death Eater in James and Louis’s year—but I guess we can still set the path for the sixth years…but we also need to get the new department going soon…figure out what N.E.W.T.s to ask for…find somebody to head it…somebody intelligent, warmhearted, diplomatic, trustworthy…it’s likely I could find a majority of the new department members within this year’s graduating class…we have to follow up on Azkaban conditions, too, to reassure the public Rita Skeeter was being dramatic…we have to do something about Delphi—counseling or therapy or…something…we can’t isolate her from everybody; it wouldn’t be humane, but we can’t have her inciting rebellions every few months, either…”

They were all good ideas, in Harry’s opinion, even if they were half-baked and a bit panicky.

“Right, well, we can think on all of that while we eat,” Ron decided. He obviously sensed the palpable unease in the room. He opened the bag carrying their lunch. “Every Weasley for themselves; eat while there’s still food.”

* * *

 

Hermione and Ron walked with Harry and Ginny to the Floo later that afternoon.

“You know,” Hermione commented. They stepped onto the crowded lift; she paused long enough to exchange cordial hellos with the people already in the lift. “I think I’ll go back to Hogwarts with you.”

“Me too, then,” Ron said. “I’ve been dying to see the Potters’ mysterious new Hogwarts flat. We can have a family dinner!”

“To see how things went with Avery?” Ginny guessed.

“Yes,” Hermione said. There as a pause in the conversation as the lift came to a stop and people got on and off at the next floor. “And I’d like to talk to James.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “To James? Why?”

“What’d he do now?” Ginny sighed.

“Nothing,” Hermione said. “It’s just…I was reviewing the notes I took about my ideas. ‘Somebody intelligent, warmhearted, diplomatic, trustworthy’. James.”

“Oh,” Ginny said. She seemed surprised that James was not, in fact, in trouble. She smiled softly.

Harry was also a bit taken aback. “You want James to head up your new Department of…Whatever?”

“Department of Social Relations and Services. I think he’d be great at it. He’s aiming for a Ministry job anyway, right?” asked Hermione.

“Sort of,” Ginny said. “I think he really wants to be a stay-at-home dad, but technically—yes. He took the recommended N.E.W.T.s for Ministry work anyway.”

“I’ve heard all about what he’s done at Hogwarts with his group. I think he could use that positive energy here and do a lot of good.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he realized. “I think he could, too.”

Suddenly, Gantha’s prediction about James’s life didn’t seem quite so far-fetched.

* * *

 

“So…I’d be dealing with marginalized people in our society?” James asked. “Advocating for their rights, promoting awareness, providing counseling services and assistance programs and legal help?”

“Correct. And kids. We _really_ need a decent social work program,” Hermione replied. She leaned over Hugo and piled some asparagus onto her plate. “I’m thinking home visits, an establishment of _proper_ foster homes…obviously there are many specifics to work out and plan between now and the end of your seventh year, but I think you’ve got the temperament, and I think you’d enjoy it, too. What do you think?”

James was smiling, but he didn’t answer right away. He looked down at Nora. His arm shifted; Harry guessed he’d taken her hand from beneath the table.

“I don’t know,” James admitted, his eyes still on Nora. His smile was clearly just for her now. “I sort of wanted to just be a dad.”

“Told you,” Ginny told Hermione.

“You can be _both_ , you know,” Hermione reminded him. “Just think on it, all right? Think about whether or not you’re up for it—think on which students in your year would work well alongside you. If you’d like—if it’s all right with your parents—you could come to the Ministry a few days this week and we could go over some ideas.”

James nodded. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Aunt Hermione.”

“Is putting another Potter in charge really a good idea?” Albus asked skeptically. “That’s sort of exactly what these people hate.”

“It’s what they hate right now. ‘Right now’ isn’t forever,” Hermione responded.

“And, as I hear, he did a brilliant job today. Better than I did. Scorpius told me there were no arguments at all in your class,” Harry reminded Albus.

“Okay…yeah, he did a good job at keeping Saul and Claire from ranting…but he’s still a Potter.”

“And proud of it,” James shot at Albus. “You should be, too.”

“I am,” Albus said defensively. “Most of the time…”

To Harry’s left, Hugo and Ron were eating off each other’s plates, enthusiastically creating strange concoctions by mixing two unlike food dishes together, and generally having a much better time than everybody else at the table combined. Hugo had been floored by joy at Ron’s sudden appearance; he could've gotten Imperiused next and he’d probably still be grinning about his dad’s dinner visit. Harry sometimes found himself a bit jealous of that.

“What about you, Albus?” Hermione asked. “Have you thought about your post-Hogwarts plan?”

Albus’s mouth twisted into an uneasy grimace. “No.”

“I think he ought to try out for a professional team,” Ginny suggested.

“No, Mum!” Albus hissed, his cheeks reddening. “I’m not good enough.”

“You are certainly good enough, and you have to believe me because I’m the expert on that.”

She had a point. Albus pursed his lips but didn’t argue further.

“I know what you should do, Albus,” Lily piped up. Albus looked down at her, a bit apprehensively.

“…What, Lily?” he asked.

She lifted her fork up and stared at the speared brussels sprout. She rotated the fork slowly, so it looked like a strange, armless figure with an abnormally large head spinning in circles.

“Scorpius,” she said lightly. James cackled. Albus blushed deeper. 

“You little—!”

Lily was laughing as Albus pelted her with bits of roasted potato. Scorpius—who was having a quiet dinner with Draco—was probably lucky to have missed that; Harry was sure he would’ve flushed even brighter than Albus had.

* * *

 

The next few days passed in an odd ease. Nothing happened out of the ordinary—except for the fact that that in itself was out of the ordinary. Draco continued daily counseling session with Avery (the only details he had been willing to divulge about them was that Avery was ‘stubborn’). Albus and Scorpius began spending a lot more of their free time in their parents’ living quarters, probably out of fear somebody would attack them with the Imperius Curse again; but both seemed to be making slow but steady recoveries from the emotional attack. Following the success of their advice column’s first issue, Lily was focusing harder than ever on that, which was a relief to Harry (who would rather her focus on _Hogwarts Help_ than Caden Rowle). And in the midst of N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch, and Animagus training, James had dedicated a few evenings to going to the Ministry with Hermione. He often came back laden with rolls of parchment whispering excitedly underneath his breath. And Iset—at least, as it appeared in Harry’s classes—was doing significantly better after finally opening up and allowing people to help her; she often sat at Scorpius and Albus’s table and he frequently had to gently remind the three to be quiet during lessons.

Everybody seemed oriented towards change, so the uneventful days felt almost anticlimactic. Of course, nobody wanted anything horrible to happen. Nobody wanted to force the Death Eater’s next hand. But they were all aware that the move was coming—it was not a question of ‘if’, it was a question of ‘when’, and Harry would have much rather faced it while he was expecting it than have faced it caught off guard.

He didn’t have to wait much longer.

Early Thursday morning, he woke with a start. For a moment, he was disoriented and confused; he sat up and looked down at his students’ essays strewn across the desk. He could feel painful places of pressure where the frame of his glasses had dug into his face during his face-down nap atop his marking. He remembered the night before in hazy bits and pieces…( _“Are you coming to bed at any point or are you nocturnal now?” Ginny had asked. Harry – bent over the essays, scratching away with his quill, had sworn: “I will, soon. Is the light bothering you?” “No, your absence is bothering me.” “I’ll be there soon. Just let me finish marking Louis’s essay.” The sheets had rustled as she’d settled into bed; Gerlind had shot across the room at the inviting sound; and Harry was exhausted…)._

He shook his head and cleared his throat. He felt Ginny’s touch against his spine.

“What?” he asked. He sat all the way up and pulled his glasses off with a hiss of pain. He rubbed over the deep indention underneath his right eye. The candles on his desk had burned down; there was just a small, dark orange flame flickering weakly in a pool of melted wax. They cast long, obscuring shadows over everything around him. “What’s wrong?”

He could hardly make her out in the near-darkness without his glasses, but he could tell something was very wrong by her posture. Tense, coiled, like she was prepared to take off somewhere at a moment’s notice. Harry felt a splash of cold water to his insides.

“What?” he demanded.

“Harry,” she said. “Grey is dead.”

For a moment, he did nothing. He stopped rubbing over the painful lines his glasses had left. He simply looked at her, her face strangely moving in the dark, seizing light from the dying candles. Was she crying? A furrow of her brow, her lips in a tight line, her nose perhaps redder than usual, her bottom eyelashes clumped together in a way that suggested—

A tear slipped down her cheek. “It was the curse they used on Albus again. They attacked him at home—”

“No…”

“His family…whoever killed him didn’t touch them, but they saw the entire thing, and they tried to help but by the time they got him to St. Mungo’s, even with the new procedure on hand—”

Harry slipped shakily from the chair.

“Where are you going?” Ginny asked. 

“The Ministry. I have to see the remaining Aurors. I have to figure out what’s going on—I need to—”

But he was still in his pajamas, and if something this big had happened outside of Hogwarts, what were they planning inside? His children. His heart forcibly changed his plans.

“Our kids,” he said instead. His heart increased to a thundering beat. _Step one,_ he reminded himself. _Step two. Step three. Take it in steps._ “We need our kids here. And then I need to go to the Ministry. And then…”

And then?

“McGonagall is bringing our kids and their cousins to the Room of Requirement right now. Just to be cautious. She and Hermione arrived here a few minutes ago.”

Harry nodded. And kept nodding. He thought he was probably in shock and his exhaustion didn’t do much to help that.

“I’ll stay with them,” she told him. “I know you need to go to the Ministry. I know you need to…get at the front of this. Don’t worry about us. I’ve got things under control here.”

He met her eyes and found nothing but brilliant understanding. It was a much sharper look than the steady burning of her blazing one. He would’ve liked to have kissed her, to have said _thank you_ , but his body was carrying him on autopilot towards his next destination.

* * *

 

His morning was spent in his old Department, calming Auror after Auror, making plan after plan alongside Hermione and the next Auror up for the position.

“Maybe you should come back,” Hermione had said, real terror weaving through her words. It was a testament to her uncertainty that she’d suggested that. And if it weren’t for the fact that there was a very real threat at Hogwarts too, a threat that was targeting his own children, he would have agreed. But he had to be there with them at all times. Now more than ever.

They sent their special force of investigators out to the Grey residence. They went to St. Mungo’s and spoke with Grey’s family. They returned, found out there was very little evidence at the Grey household, and started back at square one.

“This is _rubbish_ ,” Harry finally said. It was nearing lunch. He was physically exhausted, but it didn’t come close to matching his emotional exhaustion. Three Aurors. They were at three now in the past two months. Who would be next? Harry had to clench his fist to keep from punching at the blackboard Hermione had hung. “We know who is doing this. We _know_ it’s Alecto Carrow and Gregory Goyle! Hermione, I don’t want to do this ‘the right way’ anymore. We need to bring them in—now. We’ll interrogate them until they _do_ give us evidence.”

“Harry, if we act too quickly—”

“We’ll bring them in on something different then, if we have to! Goyle on child abuse charges! Carrow to investigate possible treason—her conspiring with Delphi surely counts as that! I can’t wait for a break anymore, Hermione. We can’t wait. More people are going to die. More Aurors. More children will be harmed. Who will it be next time? The children who won’t join—Scorpius, Iset? The people closest to them? Albus, Rose?”

Hermione bit her lip uncertainly. She tightened her arms around her book and hugged it to her chest.

“What happens to those kids following the Death Eater's orders at Hogwarts if the ringleaders are arrested?” she asked. “Do you think they’ve got orders to do something rash…a worst-case scenario retaliation?”

Harry hadn’t considered that. He bowed his head, frustration. He pulled at his hair. He felt like they were being surrounded by all sides, wands pointed at them, but they were too afraid to make any moves in their own defense. Too afraid to put up shields in fear of what might go ricocheting off them.

“They knew it would be like this,” he finally said. “Maybe that’s why they’re doing all of this inside Hogwarts in the first place. Maybe it’s less to do with recruiting and more to do with keeping us in line. They know we’ll be afraid to make quick, aggressive decisions when our children are so vulnerable.”

“Harry…” Hermione said. She met his eyes. He couldn’t understand why she looked so hesitant, like she expected him to start yelling at her at any moment. “We need more information.”

“Clearly!”

“We can’t get it from Goyle. We can’t get it from Carrow. We’ve tried to get it from Delphi—she’s not talking, she says she will only speak with Albus, and that’s—”

“Not happening,” Harry completed, his voice nearing a growl. “I doubt she’d tell him anything anyway; she’d just mess with his head.”

“We can’t round up their accomplices, because they’ve clearly found an underground way to communicate, and we can’t risk them closing ranks—or worse, pulling a final attack at Hogwarts while you’re _here_ and not with the children.”

So many things they couldn’t do. What was left _to_ do? They could pull all their remaining Aurors, wait until the group was together, and storm Goyle’s house. It would likely lead to many deaths. They would have to have even more Aurors stationed at Hogwarts to guard the students there from retaliation. And what about the dementors? Could Carrow summon them again? There were too many unknowns, too many risks. They wouldn’t have a chance at fighting off thousands of dementors with their ranks thinned and weary from a battle. Children would die. No, they couldn’t risk that.

But there was another side to this. The side at Hogwarts. There they had some semblance of environmental control. Nobody could apparate in or out. Only a limited, pre-approved number of fireplaces were hooked up to the Hogwarts Floo Network. They had a good idea of who to watch out for, and there weren’t that many; they could put one teacher to each Death Eater sympathizer. Somebody acting at Hogwarts _had_ to have some concrete information they could use for evidence; or at least information they could use to catch Goyle and Carrow in the act. Who could get to them? Definitely not him—they’d never talk to Harry Potter. Draco? They hadn’t been willing to trust him so far. Neville?

“Harry,” Hermione repeated. She still had those apologetic eyes. “I never thought I would _ever_ say this…I still can’t believe I _am_ saying it…but maybe it’s time to listen to your daughter.”

Nausea filled his gut. For a second, all he could hear were the words he’d whispered to Ginny many nights ago now _…“I think we’re going to have to make terrible choices soon.”_

“No,” he said at once.

“We can control it. Keep it safe. We’ll get Extendable Ears, we’ll have dozens of Aurors at the ready, we’ll control every bit of the situation—”

“And there are two spells—one word, the other two words—that could end her life, words that could be uttered in a _second_ —”

“They haven’t killed anybody there yet, Harry. Either they don’t have it in them or they aren’t supposed to.”

“And I’m not taking that bet with my _little girl’s life_! How could you even ask that of me?!  After the things we were forced into as children…the times we nearly died before we were even of age…and we’re sending my thirteen-year-old child into the ring?”

Hermione’s eyes were glassy behind a film of tears. “I don’t know what else to do, Harry. I’m really scared. I’m out of ideas and I’m so afraid that any move I make will cost somebody else their life. Everybody says being Minister during a war is the hardest, but I think—I think this is worse. This…before the storm. This…quelling of it. It turns out it’s harder to stop a war from happening than to win a war and the stakes are so high—please, if you’ve got a better idea, I want to hear it. Tell me.”

Hundreds of different scenarios passed behind his eyes. In every one, he saw the potential for extreme destruction. In the scenario Hermione was suggesting, there was only one person at risk. But that person was his child, and maybe it made him evil. It probably did. But to him, if he was being horribly honest with himself, her life meant more than a million other ones.

“We could coach them extensively ahead of time. I say ‘them’ because we could send her friend, the Rowle boy. He was doing Unforgivables with her, right? They would believe they’re a Dark Duo. He would be right there. We won’t let anything happen to her. She’ll be safe—you’ll be right there Harry, the entire time. Right there with her.”

“I don’t trust Rowle,” Harry snarled at once. “I don’t trust him to kiss her and I certainly don’t trust him with her life.”

“Harry, you might not have a choice on that anymore.”

“I’ve always got a choice.”

* * *

 

He and Ginny spent the rest of that day in horrified silence, both their minds working hard to find a different solution to their tangled web of problems.

“We don’t have to say yes. We don’t even have to provide an alternative solution,” Ginny said that night, pacing their living room floor, wringing her hands nervously. “It’s not on us to save the day. It’s not always on a Potter to sacrifice themselves up for that.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I don’t think our children have any better hope of believing that than we did.”

“We can’t tell her about this,” Ginny said, alarmed. “She would demand to do it at once.”

“No, I know,” Harry agreed quickly. “That isn’t what I meant.”

Ginny stopped pacing. She rubbed over her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“I think they’re going to eventually go after our children no matter what we do,” she admitted, her voice thick. “We’re going to have to take them from Hogwarts. We’re going to have to…run away. And that’s so against my nature, Harry, that it’s making me feel so… _horrible._ But our children. We can’t lose them.”

“No,” he agreed at once, his heart rolling from the mere suggestion of one of their children dying. “No. I would do anything to keep that from happening.”

His own words taunted him. _Anything? If that were true…what are you doing right now? Arguing about what could very well be a solution? If putting Lily in slight danger for a few minutes could end all of this now—isn’t that a worthwhile risk when it comes to keeping your children safe? As Ginny said, they’re going to come after them anyway. It’s do this or run away, and if you run away, this becomes a war in the blink of an eye, and all you did to stop things when you were seventeen—all of that goes away. It was for nothing. And James, Albus, and Lily will live in a world like you did. A world where people are tortured and murdered, where children don’t know their parents, where people live in crippling fear…_

His eyes sought Ginny’s, and when they locked gazes, he had the horrible feeling she’d been thinking the same thing. Harry’s heart hadn’t felt so broken since Albus’s attack.

“I don’t want to be the sort of father that Dumbledore was to me,” he told Ginny. “I don’t want to use our daughter for the greater good. She isn’t a tool. She’s our Lily. She’s clever, funny, bright—larger-than-life. Ginny. I don’t know what to do. Please—what do I do?”

He would’ve liked to have thought that Dumbledore had agonized over the decisions he’d made in the same way that Harry was currently agonizing over his, but if that had been true, Harry didn’t think he would’ve had time to do much else. Because his pain was all-consuming.

“We can’t run,” she said, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.

Harry hated himself more and more as he shook his head in response. But he always knew they never would have. Ginny was right—it wasn’t in her nature and it wasn’t in his, either. And it—unfortunately—wasn’t in their children’s.

“We can’t attack blindly,” she continued. Harry shook his head again. She resumed pacing.

“Okay. What if—” she stopped again. She faced Harry. “James and Nora spent all day preparing for their Halloween party.”

“…Okay?”

“McGonagall permitted the use of the Great Hall, but for the sake of safety, she decided that professors would have to take wands upon entering the party. They’re going to write down whose wand it is, what type, and keep hold of it until it’s time to leave the party. It’ll happen to everybody. So it won’t be suspicious. But it would keep her safe.”

Harry blinked. “Have Lily try to infiltrate during this party. When they—and everybody else—are wandless.”

“Right. But we let Lily keep her wand. And Caden. George or Ron can make them fake wands to hand over. And we’ll be nearby, listening in, wands ready.”

He couldn’t deny that this idea made him feel much safer. “They could only physically attack, and they wouldn’t get very far that way because we’d be a door away.”

“Exactly. And, despite what you may think about the Caden boy, I doubt he’d let anybody hurt her.”

Harry sighed. “If we ask her opinion, she’ll say yes. She probably dreams about situations like these at night.”

“Without a doubt,” Ginny agreed. She gave a somewhat shaky laugh. “But, you know, if it works…maybe she’ll finally feel like she’s adequately proven herself.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice…”

Ginny fell down onto the sofa. Harry walked over and joined her. He didn’t even complain when Nico crawled into his lap. He scratched behind the cat’s ears. He looked at Ginny.

“Remember when our main parenting concern was properly teaching the kids about sex?”

Ginny laughed. “Ah, yes. The good old days.”

“The scary thing is…I think situations like these come more naturally to us.”

“Well, they say war leaves a scar on everybody.”

“Profound,” he teased half-heartedly. “In our cases, physical and emotional ones.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Let’s try and keep the scars off our kids as much as possible.”

* * *

They spent much of that remaining week debating when and how to present the idea to Lily.

The student body had worked itself into a panicked state again over Grey’s death, one that was surely going to carry them through tomorrow and into Halloween. The Sevens were working harder than ever to perfect their Halloween party plans; as Ben had put it in yesterday’s DADA class, a bit of fun was probably _crucial_ now to keep people from lashing out.

The line outside Draco’s office during lunch breaks was backed up into the Restricted Section as anxious students who could sense war on the horizon began to come to him for reassurance. _Hogwarts Help_ kept Lily, Ginny, and the volunteers busy with panicked letter after panicked letter; Harry had his fair share of ones addressed specifically to him, but after writing a response to the _tenth_ letter pleading with him to ‘make things right again’, he had to take some time away from them.

On the morning of Halloween, Harry rolled over, curled against Ginny, and said: “We have to tell her before breakfast. It’s going to take all day to plan it.”

“Ugh,” Ginny said. And then, for a few minutes, nothing else. Until: “Shall I talk to Caden?”

“No. I want to.”

“Harry. We need him to still like our daughter so he can be on her side tonight.”

“I know. I just want to make sure I tell him all that I need to.”

“The poor kid. Honestly, all of these kids who get involved with our kids probably have no idea what they’re getting themselves into.”

“Our kids are lucky they’re so damn adorable.”

“They might not have survived childhood if they weren’t so adorable,” she joked.

Harry laughed. He knew there was a lot to do, but for a few minutes, he was content to rest there and think about the years that had passed.

* * *

 

They entered the Great Hall warily.

“Okay,” Ginny said. She took a deep breath. “We eat quickly, I go with Lily, you go with Caden. We talk with them and meet back up in your office.”

“Right,” he nodded.

They walked over and sat at the mixed-House table. Ginny kissed Albus and Scorpius on the foreheads. Lily leaned over the person separating them—Aster—and hugged Harry.

“Morning, Lulu,” he smiled.

“Morning! You have more letters, you know,” she told him sternly.

He grimaced. “I know. I’ll get to them. Soon.”

“Mmhmm…” she said skeptically. She looked at Aster. “When my dad says _soon_ , he means _never_.”

“Mine too,” Aster nodded.

Harry looked down from Albus towards James to greet him, but the words died on his lips.

“Er…” he trailed off. His skin prickled with uneasiness. He observed his eldest in utter disbelief, because he was sitting _apart_ from Nora. There was at least an inch between their bodies, and that in itself was such an alien sight that it took Harry’s mind a moment to wrap around the vastness of that void. James was red-eyed and staring down at his full plate—it didn’t look like he’d touched any of it. Nora hadn’t even bothered to put any food on hers at all; she was sitting listlessly at James’s side, her hand resting over her stomach like she might be sick at any moment, her hair down from its typical bun and surrounding her elegant features in a hectic array. It took Harry longer than it should have to realize the two were clearly _fighting_.

He wasn't the only one who'd noticed. He felt Ginny’s foot kick lightly at his calf from beneath the table. He tore his gaze from James and Nora and looked to Ginny. Her face had paled. _‘James?’_ she mouthed, concerned. Harry shrugged, his lips pressed into a tight line. Ginny’s frown deepened.

Lily didn’t miss their exchange.

“They’re arguing,” she whispered to Harry. “Well…actually, they’re ‘saddening’, but that’s not really a thing, so they’re….sad arguing.”

“About what?” Harry demanded. He was much more horrified over this than he would have expected himself to be. He felt like he’d had the floor pulled up from underneath him. James and Nora didn’t argue-- not severely enough to reduce them to this, anyway. James and Nora didn’t fight. James and Nora were James and Nora; they'd been effortless partners since the day they’d met, so in love with everything about each other that they accepted each other without stipulation or hesitation, no matter what life threw at them. So what on _earth_ had moved them to _this_?

Lily shrugged. “I dunno for sure. I walked in on them in the Common Room this morning. Nora was crying, so obviously Jamie was crying, too, he’s so soft-hearted,” Lily rolled her eyes as if that were a bad thing. “I _know_ they were talking about him going to the Ministry today, so I guess she’s worried about him. You know, since Aurors keep getting murdered and these renewed Death Eaters want to scour the world of the Potter Plagues.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Harry said immediately. He glanced back at Nora and James. “You’re not a plague and neither are your siblings.”

“Well _I_ know that, Dad. I’m a blessing.”

Harry studied James carefully. He looked deeply unsettled, guilty, worried. Harry momentarily forgot about everything else.

“James?” he asked. Nothing. He raised his voice. “ _James_.”

James slowly looked up at him. He brought his hands to the tabletop as he did. Harry grimaced at the raw, torn skin around his nails.

“Oh, hey, Dad,” James greeted.

Harry looked pointedly between him and Nora. Nora was studiously avoiding his eyes, not a smile to be found.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

James’s fingers went back to picking at the skin around his nails. Emotional deception was not natural to him; it was obvious it was taking every bit of his strength to reply with: “Nothing.”

Harry looked back at Nora. She had her face turned away from James, but she appeared moments away from tears. Ginny reached over and caught James’s nervous hands.

“Stop that,” she said gently. “That won’t help you feel better.”

He furrowed his brow. “Stop what?”

“What happened with you two?” Ginny demanded. James bowed forward over his full, untouched plate. Ginny leaned back and peered around him. “Nora?”

Nora made no indication that she’d heard Ginny speaking.

“Nora?” Ginny asked again, her voice a bit sterner, and all at once Nora collapsed into unexpected tears. James cringed at the sound like he’d been kicked. Ginny slid from the bench and wedged herself between James and Nora, her arm wrapping tightly around Nora.

“Nora, honestly,” she said, exasperated. “What on earth are you two fighting about?”

“N-Nothing!” Nora wept.  

“Really? Because, er, it _sounds_ like something.”

James physically sat on his own hands, clearly to keep himself from reaching for Nora, and even then he was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds, his tear-filled eyes darting to Nora over and over again. Harry could almost see the pain swelling up inside of James; he seemed to be finding it difficult to sit still and breathe around it. After another moment of suffering, he too collapsed into tears.

“Bloody—” Ginny caught herself and sighed. James collapsed against Ginny’s other side. She met Harry’s eyes from across the table, one-half of the bickering couple sobbing on either arm. “Any ideas, Harry?”

“Make them hug it out?” he suggested weakly.

He’d been fully joking—and it wasn’t even a good joke at that. But Ginny considered it for a moment, glanced down at both seventh years, and then slowly slid backwards off the bench, extracting herself from the two. After a brief hesitation, she reached forward and set a hand on their backs, gently patting them forward towards each other. It was all the prodding they needed. James pulled Nora into a tight bear hug at the same moment she slid over and collapsed against his chest.

“I’m sorry—”

“I won’t go, I’m sorry, too—”

“No, I’m sorry for making it about me—”

“It _is_ about you, Nora, it always is and now more than ever—”

“I’m being dramatic; I don’t know why I’m so upset—”

“You have every reason to be upset—”

“I’m so afraid that you’re going to die—”

“I’m not going to die—”

“What if you died?”

The question gave way to a heavy silence that was followed with more crying. Harry got the feeling he was missing something. To his right, Lily was watching the two with a bored look.

“She really takes the theatrics with her, doesn’t she? It’s like Shakespeare all the time,” Lily whispered. Having been to one of Nora’s summer muggle Shakespeare performances a few years back, she’d never quite gotten over how much she’d disliked the play. She’d come home to inform everybody that Shakespeare was a ‘stuffy tosser’.

Harry disagreed with Lily's assessment of Nora. While she _was_ artistic and open-hearted, he had never seen Nora fall apart like this over anything trivial. James was less of a concern—it was expected that the sight of Nora crying would do this to him. Her unhappiness was, according to the Boggart in Harry’s office, one of his very worst fears. But it was obvious something more had happened to them, something that neither Harry nor Lily were privy to, and he didn’t want to judge them too quickly.

“Don’t tease them,” he told Lily. He had lost his appetite. He locked eyes with Ginny. “Will you…” he darted his eyes to James. Ginny nodded at once. She darted hers to Lily. Harry nodded. He looked back down at Lily. “Lily, are you done with breakfast? Let’s take a walk. I want to talk to you about something.”

Lily sighed. “More sex talks? I get it, Dad. Really. I get how it happens, I get that you don’t want me to do it ever, I get that it causes babies and various other ailments, I get how to stop those things from happening. I get that penises have no bones—which is really cool. You have done your job as a parent. Nice job! You get an O!”

“No, Lily…not about that.”

“What about, then?” she asked. Her gaze was calculating. Harry hesitated.

“I’ll…tell you as we walk.”

“Did somebody else die?”

He sighed. “No, Lily, just finish your breakfast so we can go.”

She lifted her toast. She pursed her brow in thought as she chewed. She looked at Harry.

“Did Albus tell you something about me?” she asked.

“No…what would he have told me?” Harry demanded.

“…Nothing. Just checking. That boy, ha, he likes to make up lies…” she looked away as she quickly ate the rest of her piece of toast. Harry decided to completely leave that one alone. He had enough to deal with already.

He hooked his arm with Lily’s as they walked from the Great Hall, and as they stepped out onto the grounds, Harry did what he hoped was the right thing.

“I think we need your help, Lulu.”


	12. Meddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily rises to the occasion in a very Lily-like manner. Scorpius struggles with the delicate art of birthday gift selection. James tries secrecy on for size while Rose gives emotional honesty a spin. Meanwhile, stress is beginning to eat away at all of them--though some are feeling the influence more than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end with only one or two chapters left- thanks for reading and I'm sorry for the long wait on both the chapter and comment responses!

“Essay first.”

“No—snogging first, then a snack, then Quidditch practice, and _then_ the essay,” Albus corrected.

Scorpius gave Albus an exasperated look. He tightened his arm around Albus’s waist as they started up the stairs. “Essay, snogging, snack, Quidditch.”

Albus paused halfway up the staircase. “I think I can walk up on my own. My legs feel really strong today. I’m going to try.”

Scorpius grinned. “Yeah? Okay.”

Albus nodded. “Just…catch me if I start to fall down.”

“I promise,” Scorpius nodded.

He waited nervously on his current stair and watched as Albus walked slowly up, step-by-step, his gait somewhat unsteady but functional. He beamed so widely it made his cheeks ache as Albus stepped up onto the top landing. He turned and grinned down at Scorpius.

“Finally!” he said.

“ _Yes_!” Scorpius cheered. “You did it!”

“I did it! And to congratulate me, you can agree that our Transfiguration essays can be the very last thing we do today.”

“Albus, they’re due in two days! We have the Halloween party tonight! I can’t believe you’ve managed to keep me from doing mine for this long!” Scorpius said. He walked up the rest of the steps separating him and Albus. Albus took his hand as soon as they were at each other’s sides again.

“ _I_ can believe it,” Albus murmured. Scorpius looked down at him with what was supposed to be a stern expression, but Albus’s intense eyes turned it into a smile rather quickly. He tugged on Albus’s hand and pulled him over. Their hips knocked. He wrapped his arm back around Albus’s waist. Albus might not have needed the support to walk anymore, but Scorpius was used to walking that way now, and it felt odd not to.

“Essay, snogging, snack, Quidditch,” Scorpius reiterated.

“Snogging, essay, snack, Quidditch,” Albus countered.

Scorpius hesitated. They _really_ needed to do the essays immediately…but that was probably the best compromise they’d make…and really—was earlier snogging a bad thing?

“All right,” Scorpius said. “But we have to finish the essays.”

“And we will…afterwards.”

* * *

Of course, sticking to a schedule when they were _starting_ with snogging was no easy feat. Scorpius pulled himself away three times before he finally managed to slip back into a somewhat sane state of mind.

“Transfiguration,” he heard himself half-groan. Albus’s lips had wandered down to his collarbones. He struggled to pull his head out of the trap of arousal. “Albus. Al…”

The internal battle began: _Do we really need to do the essay? Yes. Yes, you need to do the essay, Scorpius. But why? Because you—because you have to—_

“ _Oh_ , Merlin,” he said. He collapsed back down against the pillows. He _almost_ gave in and allowed Albus’s lips to travel freely, but his nagging anxiety began again. _No. Better stop it now, Scorpius, stop it—no, Scorpius, don’t—_

His self-scoldings enabled him to gain enough willpower to reach down and gently grasp Albus’s shoulders.

“Okay, time-out,” he urged.

Albus gave a reluctant groan, but he rolled over onto his back a moment later, leaving Scorpius flushed and slightly out of breath against the pillows. The air felt extremely cold against the skin Albus had just been covering. He shut his eyes and focused on settling his breathing and regaining his self-control before he said a word.

“Our essays,” he finally managed.

“But I really think that there are better things to do with our—”

“No!” Scorpius quickly yelped. He reached up and covered his ears. “No, don’t do that—don’t get sultry eyes or sultry…words, okay?! Because I’ll get…going, you know, into it, and then we’ll both just go right back to—we—we have to do our essays…Albus!”

Albus—who’d begun leaning his face towards Scorpius’s—froze guiltily. He heaved a sigh.

“Oh, _all right_ , then,” he grumbled. “But our essays aren’t going to be even _nearly_ as fun.”

“We can get back to this _after_ we write them, okay?”

“Okay,” Albus sighed. “Merlin, I _hate_ when you make me be responsible.”

* * *

It turned out that their Transfiguration essays actually weren’t meant to be left until the last moment. After searching frantically through their Transfiguration book, combing through the library, and crumbling up about an entire roll’s worth of parchment, they realized that they were going to need some help.

“All right,” Scorpius said. Albus was balling up another length of parchment, his eyebrows pulled low in annoyed frustration. “Shall we try to find our professor, find James, or admit to Rose that we’ve put it off this long and see if she’ll help us?”

Albus dropped his feet down from the chair across from him.

“Not Rose,” he said immediately. “Absolutely never Rose. I told her we were halfway finished with it last week because she was nagging me. Let’s try for James…if he’s still upset from this morning, he won’t have it in him to tease us for being irresponsible.”

“Right,” Scorpius nodded. He gathered their parchment while Albus capped the inkwells. He neatly stacked the parchment into his bag, waited for Albus to finish, and then placed the inkwells in his quill case. His mind drifted to the look of devastation that’d been on James and Nora’s faces in the Great Hall that morning. “I wonder what they were so upset about. Nora and James.”

“I expect something stupid, like somebody flirting with Nora, or somebody flirting with James…” Albus hefted his bag up onto his shoulder. Scorpius put the last quill in, shut his case, placed it inside his bag, and then did the same. They set off towards the doors. “One time, in their fifth year, James didn’t speak with one of his dorm mates for half the year because he said something really filthy about Nora.”

Scorpius wasn’t surprised. “Yeah, but he didn’t stop talking to _Nora_ , did he? Just the boy who said something.”

“That’s true,” Albus agreed. He looked down at his feet as he thought. “You know, now that you say that, I’m having a difficult time thinking up any reason they’d argue.”

Scorpius shrugged. “I suppose it could just be the worry and tension everybody is feeling. Speaking of…hold up a moment, I want to see if my dad’s in…”

He slowed outside of his dad’s office. There were two or three people sitting outside of the closed door, but they had books opened in their laps, so Scorpius figured they’d been waiting a while.

“He’s probably not in,” Scorpius said. He ignored the way his heart had inched down.

“Let’s check anyway, maybe he’s taking a break; there have been people in his office practically nonstop since Dad’s friend died…” Albus walked up to the closed door. He tapped his knuckles against the wood once. “Draco?”

There was a pause—one long enough that Scorpius assumed his dad really wasn’t inside his office—and then the muffled sound of shuffling. The door opened slightly a moment later—widely enough that Draco could peer out, widely enough that they could hear somebody crying in the background, but not widely enough that they could make out who it was. Draco looked concerned.

“Is everything all right, Albus? Scorpius?” he asked.

“Yes,” Albus said quickly. “Scorpius just wanted to see you.”

Scorpius’s cheeks flushed. He didn’t want his dad to think he was a baby, or worse, to think that something was wrong and worry. “I…we were just in the library, and I thought I’d pop in and say hello, but I see that you’re busy…”

He trailed off, because his dad’s eyes had suddenly turned warmer. He smiled.

“Would you boys like to have lunch?” Draco offered.

Scorpius beamed. “Yes! I mean…yes, if you aren’t busy.”

“I’m not. Albus?”

“Definitely! What time?”

“Meet back here around noon or so?”

“All right!” Albus said cheerfully. Scorpius was still beaming.

“Thanks, Dad!”

“Anytime,” his dad smiled. He gestured back towards his office. The sobbing sounds had only grown. “I should get back. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Right, okay,” Scorpius nodded. He paused. He lifted his voice somewhat. “I hope you feel better, whoever you are.”

The sobbing only increased. Oops. Scorpius winced.

“I wonder who was in there,” Albus said, as they resumed their journey towards the Room of Requirement.

“I dunno, sounded like a boy,” Scorpius said. “Whoever it was, they weren’t happy…” his stomach twisted when he thought of how the crying had increased. He glanced down at Albus. “I shouldn’t’ve said anything.”

“No, it was nice,” Albus said immediately.

Scorpius arched an eyebrow.

“It _was_ ,” Albus said firmly. He reached down and took Scorpius’s hand. He squeezed. “It was.”

Scorpius hoped he was right. The last thing he wanted was to make any of this worse for anybody.

* * *

“I hope James is in here,” Albus said. They came to a stop outside of the Room of Requirement. “Because I really don’t want to have to try and convince the Fat Lady to let us into Gryffindor Tower again…”

Scorpius grimaced. “Oh, yeah, no—let’s not do that. She intimidates me.”

“If Lily could learn to keep her mouth shut…” Albus trailed off darkly.

“Yes, well, after what _we_ caught _her_ doing, she won’t be telling on us anytime soon,” Scorpius reminded Albus. He felt a brief sting of guilt. He rushed to make himself feel better. “But that’s not blackmail because it’s only fair. She caught us...snogging enthusiastically—”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Scorpius ignored Albus. He took a deep breath and continued on. “And we caught _her_ in the Slytherin Common Room doing…whatever it was that she was doing.”

“Yeah,” Albus admitted. “I’m still not really clear on that one. She was either having a staring contest with Rowle or practicing Legilimency, and knowing Lily, both are equally possible. I was going to tell Dad it was the latter; he’d lose his head…”

“She definitely kissed him though and she was definitely inside the Slytherin Basement. So either way…we caught her doing something naughty.” Scorpius nodded. “So it’s fair. And it’s not bullying a thirteen-year-old.”

Albus scoffed. “I wish you’d get over this ‘we’ve got to protect Lily’ thing; she is _not_ an innocent flower, she’s an extremely annoying, wild little—”

The door appeared suddenly in front of them on the blank expanse of wall. Scorpius blinked Albus’s way, stunned.

“Wow. How’d you ask for the room mid-argument?”

“What? I didn’t. I thought you did…”

They trailed off. After a confused pause, they looked towards the door. It creaked open a second later and—

“ _Mum_?” Albus demanded, surprised.

Ginny stepped out into the corridor and then came to a stop. Scorpius noticed her stress immediately; she was holding her body rigidly, her brow was furrowed (which, he noted, deepened the fine lines beside her eyes), and she was picking anxiously at her fingers in a way reminiscent of James’s anxious self-damaging habit. Like James, she hardly seemed to realize she was doing it. It appeared to take her a moment to process Albus and Scorpius’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” Albus finally said.

Ginny stared. “What? I live here.”

“No— _here_ ,” Albus emphasized, gesturing towards the Room of Requirement. “You’re not a Seven.”

Ginny continued picking at her nails.

“Neither are you. What are _you_ doing here?” she countered.

“I asked you first!” Albus complained.

“And I’m the mum—I ask the questions!” Ginny shot back. She finally stopped injuring her fingers for the sake of crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “Merlin, why are my children so secretive?! I expect the moody emotional repression from you, Al, but from both you _and_ your brother? Merlin!”

Albus gestured towards the Room of Requirement again. “So you were checking in on James then? How’d that go?”

“It didn’t. He wouldn’t tell me anything. Looked me right in the eyes and lied to me—can you believe it? To his own mother! Something serious has happened and he won’t tell me; he won’t let me help him.” She was back to picking at her skin. Albus heaved a sigh and crossed over to his mum. She looked so worried that she was nearing tears as Albus took her hands in his.

“You’re hurting yourself, look,” Albus sighed. He lifted her hands. Ginny blinked.

“Oh,” she stared at her hands like they’d only just appeared seconds before. “Didn’t notice.”

“Mum, I’m sure he’s fine. He’s James.”

“But he’s not acting like James and that’s what so frightening. I can’t remember the last time James was upset and refused to tell me why.”

“So maybe he needs space or…I dunno, he’s a git sometimes. Maybe Nora told him she doesn’t think red is his color or something.”

Ginny didn’t look reassured or amused, but she smiled at Albus anyway.

“Yeah. Maybe. What are you two doing here?”

“Same reason,” Albus admitted. “Looking for James. We need help with our Transfiguration essays.”

“Oh, well, good luck,” Ginny said. “He could hardly focus on our conversation and it wasn’t even really a conversation, it was more James panicking silently and me trying to get him to talk to me.”

Scorpius frowned. He reached for Albus’s hand.

“Albus, maybe we should leave him be…”

“No, let’s give it a shot,” Albus said. “Who knows—maybe he’d welcome the distraction.”

Ginny hesitated. “If you find out anything…” she trailed off.

“Immediately run to you and betray James’s trust?” Albus finished, amused.

“…Yeah, pretty much.”

“At least you’re honest about your own faults, Mum.”

“Yeah…right…” she murmured. Scorpius was positive Ginny hadn’t processed a word that Albus had just said. She turned back to him and lowered her voice. “So if he or Nora tells you anything…use the Map and find me, okay?”

“All right, but if he didn’t tell _you_ , he’s not going to tell m—where are you going now?”

Ginny had leaned forward, quickly kissed their foreheads, and set off down the corridor. She turned around to respond and kept up her pace, walking backwards now.

“There’s something your dad and I have to do. I’ll see you soon.”

“That sounds decidedly suspicious,” Albus muttered.

Scorpius shrugged. “They’re always up to something. What’s new?”

“Fair point.”

Scorpius had begun pacing and thinking about the Sevens’ headquarters, in order to get the door to reappear, when he heard approaching footsteps. He turned around.

“Mum? Forget something?” Albus asked.

Ginny walked back over to them.

“Yes. You and your brother and Scorpius and Nora and James’s friends. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

She took them both by the elbow. Scorpius and Albus exchanged confused looks above her head.

“Me? Us? What for?” Albus demanded.

“There’s a plan. You’ve all got to be briefed; we need all the Sevens, too. I got distracted with the James drama…here we go…” the door had reappeared. Ginny marched them forward and opened the door. Inside, Clementine, Ben, Evvie, James, and Nora were huddled closely on the sofa, Louis and Roxanne were perched on the arms of the sofa, and Jacques, Bec, and Sara were sitting on the floor, leaning back against their fellow Sevens members’ legs. All were engaged in tense, secretive whispering. They jumped as they spotted Ginny.

“Merlin, Aunt Ginny!” Roxanne cried, her hand covering her heart. “Don’t do that, I didn’t hear you coming in!”

“Mum!” James complained. He’d gone a bit teary. “Please don’t ask me what’s wrong again, okay, because I can’t—and I don’t want—Mum, I’m allowed to have a secret! One secret, I can have one secret!”

“No, no you can’t! No secrets! A new rule!” Ginny rebutted. She turned to Albus. “No secrets!”

“Er…okay? How will you know, though? If we’ve got a secret?”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “I can read it on your faces. I made those faces; I know them better than you do.”

James had his arms crossed. He was clearly steeling himself for another interrogation. But Ginny let it go—with what looked like extraordinary reluctance.

“There’s a plan for the party tonight. After Grey’s death, things are very…well, we don’t know what to do from this point without more information. So we’ve got a plan to get more information. And I was hoping that you lot might help out.”

“Of course we will,” Louis said at once.

“How can we help?” Bec asked.

Ginny looked to Albus and Scorpius. Albus sighed.

“Yes, sure, Mum.” He reached over and took Scorpius’s hand tightly. “Guess that ruins our plans to skip the party.”

“Mmhmm,” Scorpius agreed.

“Though it seems like they’ve got plenty of help…” Albus continued thoughtfully, as every Seven rose to help.

“Albus,” Scorpius said carefully. “Not that I’m calling you nosy…but I don’t think you’d be able to relax in the dorms while a secret plan was unfolding at the party.”

“Fair point,” Albus allowed.

* * *

 

The first thing Scorpius noticed when they entered the Potters’ living quarters was Lily’s brilliantly smug smile. She wasn’t even in the center of the room, but somehow, everybody’s eyes were drawn to her anyway. She was giving off waves of brimming satisfaction.

“Oh, Merlin _and_ God…” Albus groaned.

Scorpius allowed his eyes to take stock of the other inhabitants: Harry and Caden Rowle, who were standing in front of Lily and appeared to be involved in conversation, Rose and Iset, who were on the sofa together with Fitzroy the fluffy white cat, who was batting quite demandingly at Iset for petting, and Hermione, Ron, and Scorpius’s dad. The very definition of a full house.

“Hello all,” Ron greeted. “A full recruitment, I see.”

“Yes,” Ginny agreed distractedly. Scorpius looked at her curiously. Her eyes were on James and Nora, who’d lingered near the door and were now standing very closely together and talking in rapid, urgent whispers. It looked like another argument. “Yes…somebody just…bring them to speed…I’ve got to check something…”

“Gin—” Harry tried to say, but she was already inching backwards to eavesdrop. It was fruitless, though. As soon as she’d made it close enough to make out what was being said, Nora straightened and turned, her eyes falling on Ginny. She and James took a step back and then joined the larger group. Ginny looked like she was swearing internally; her face had gone red.

“What’s the plan, Dad?” Albus asked. His eyes flickered to his smug little sister. “Please tell me Lily looks so thrilled for a completely unrelated reason.”

“If only I could, Al…” Harry trailed off with a grimace. “So, the thing is—”

“I get to infiltrate,” Lily interrupted. “So it has everything to do with me, Albus.”

“Great,” Albus muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course. I’m not even surprised anymore. Just—throw her in there. Sure. Whatever!”

“Infiltrate?” James demanded. That, it seemed, had been enough to tear him from his panicked thoughts. He pushed his way through his group of friends and looked at Harry in disbelief. “You’re letting _Lily_ immerse herself with Carrow’s friends? With _Avery_?”

“Not exactly. This is a _conditional_ and _temporary_ infiltration that will probably be unsuccessful, but we’re going to try. Lily has a very clear set of rules, and she’s going to follow those rules. Isn’t that right, Lulu?”

Lily looked up from her nails. “Hm? Oh—yes. Right, Dad.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “For Merlin’s sake...”

“This is a horrible idea,” Rose piped up, in her annoying, sing-song know-it-all voice. Lily glowered at her.

“Rose, you’re supposed to be my friend,” she said.

“Before I’m your friend I’m your family, and as your family, I say this is rubbish,” Rose shot back.

“Rose,” Hermione scolded. “Encouragement would be more helpful.”

Rose shook her head. “You’re unbelievable, Mum! I can’t believe you’re going for this! Lily— _Lily?!_ Lily’s got absolutely no self-discipline and you want to throw her right into—”

“I’m open to other ideas, Rose,” Harry interrupted testily. “By all means—please, if you’ve got a better solution, I’m all ears.”

“You could…well…” Rose trailed off. She glanced at Iset. Iset shook her head sadly. “I don’t know, but I do know that Lily is going to end up getting herself hurt.”

“I agree,” Albus quickly said. “I agree with Rose.”

“And I agree with Albus!” James echoed. He looked paler than usual; the contrast between his skin and freckles was much more noticeable today. “I don’t want my sister alone with those horrible people!”

“She’s _not_ going to be alone,” Harry said. “We’ve got a plan, and if you all agree, you’ve got a place in it. Can you lot agree to listen quietly while we run through the _entire_ plan? If you’ve still got concerns and complaints afterwards, we’ll be glad to indulge them. But until then…Hermione? Do you want to start?”

Hermione stood. “Yes. Everybody in this room is aware of the students involved with the Death Eaters’ newest movement—Avery, Nott, Zabini, Theva, Montague. We know they are directly linked to Death Eater activity outside of the school. We know—vaguely—what is driving the Death Eaters outside of the school and—vaguely—what their motives are. But we need to know more in order to attack them effectively; right now, there are too many variables. We can’t risk attacking blindly and sending half of them into hiding, nor can we risk attacking and inadvertently triggering another dementor attack. We don’t know exactly how much power they’ve got here or outside of Hogwarts, and we need to know that. The problem is…we can’t speak with the actual Death Eaters; they won’t talk. We can’t speak with—”

“Oi!” Ron exclaimed, interrupting Hermione midsentence. Scorpius furrowed his brow. He looked from Harry’s cagey expression, to Hermione’s flushing cheeks, to his dad’s averted eyes. They knew something else. Scorpius looked over at Albus. He had not missed the exchange.

“Can’t speak with who?” he demanded.

“We can’t speak with…the students,” Hermione completed lamely. “Because they’d never speak with me about this and certainly not Harry or any other professor. They won’t speak with you Albus, or James, or any of you Sevens. But we think there’s a chance Lily could pull this off. She’s acted in somewhat…shady ways this school term—”

“I prefer it to be called _experimental_ ,” Lily corrected.

Hermione stared at her for a long moment, as if debating whether or not to contradict that. She sighed. “She’s behaved in _experimental_ ways then, and not always to positive effect, but I think we can use this in our favor. It will be very tricky. We want to have this all happen tonight at the party, where everybody will be wandless—to reduce the risk to Lily. Now, the problem is, we’ve got to first ensure that these kids actually attend the party.”

“Not likely,” Evvie shared. “Avery’s circle of friends thinks anything that involves Gryffindors is inherently stupid and unworthy of their time.”

“Have you told them that you’ll be there?” Ben asked.

“Ben, I know this might come as a slight shock,” Jacques began, “but not everybody views Evvie’s presence as the ultimate decider on whether or not they should attend an event like you do.”

“Well, it’s really not my concern if they’re stupid,” Ben shrugged. “Their loss.”

“So how will we make them attend a party they aren’t going to want to attend?” Clementine asked. She had a clear, clinical tone to her voice and her gaze was unrelenting; she was paying very close attention to every word Hermione was saying. Scorpius hoped she’d be able to come up with an alternative solution. 

“We’re not going to give them a choice,” Hermione said.

“Er…Aunt Hermione, I don’t think that will work like you think it will…” James grimaced.

“These aren’t exactly…obedient students,” Nora added, her voice gentle.

“If there’s one way to make certain they’ll avoid the party, it’s telling them they have to go to it,” Evvie agreed.

“Oh, no, I know,” Hermione assured them. “We’re going to make it seem like it’s their choice to go. At dinner, McGonagall’s going to announce that the Ministry is sending dozens of Aurors over to do a sweep of every inch of the castle, due to a concern about security following the dementor attack. She’ll inform the school that the Aurors will be searching inside Common Rooms, dorms, the library—everywhere. But in order to make sure the Halloween festivities aren’t interrupted, they’re going to check the Great Hall first thing and then steer clear of it for the entire four-hour party.”

_Oh…_

“So they’ll inevitably end up attending the party just to keep away from the Aurors,” Louis said.

“Precisely. Plus, I’ve got the Pumpkin Pasties coming to play on a favor, and the house elves are purposefully saving all the good sweets for the party. I think, all of that considered, there’s a high probability that at least a few of them will choose to attend the party.”

Scorpius automatically looked to Lily, who was a massive fan of the Pumpkin Pasties. She must’ve already known because her expression hadn’t changed much. Or maybe the fact that her parents were actually trusting her to do something so risky was just infinitely more exciting than her favorite band playing.

“Okay, sure, they’ll probably attend,” Albus allowed. “But how’s Lily supposed to get them to trust her?”

“Lily and I have spent the better part of the past hour going over many different scenarios and scripts,” Harry said. “She’s knows how to begin, and depending on the direction the conversation goes, she knows how to continue. If they don’t want to tell her anything—then that’s that. We tried and we’ll find another way.”

“They’ll tell me,” Lily said.

Everybody turned to look at her. She had her ankles propped on the coffee table. She didn’t look very worried.

“You’re a Seer now?” Albus scoffed.

“No. I’m Lily and I know myself,” she responded coolly. And for a moment, Scorpius actually found himself feeling a bit intimidated, but it passed by as quickly as it’d come. It was soon replaced by worry.

“Lily,” he spoke up. His dad was first to realize he’d spoken; he gave him his full attention immediately. “I know you know Zabini…but these others…I think they would all kill for whatever it is they’re fighting for. Whoever they’re fighting for. They’re dangerous.”

Lily pursed her lips against an amused smile. Harry and Ginny bristled.

“There is _nothing_ funny about this, Lily Luna,” Ginny said sharply. She walked over and perched on the arm of the chair. She reached out and grasped Lily’s chin, directing her eyes to her. “Look at me. This is _not_ a joke. This is _not_ a game. This is dangerous and serious, and if you’re going to giggle at it like it’s a game of bloody strip Poker, I’m not going to let you do it.”

“I’m not—” Lily tried to say, but her words were cushioned by poorly restrained laughter. Harry was seething.

“No, nope,” he decided. “That’s it. Plan’s off. Sorry, you lot.”

Lily sat straight up and dropped her feet to the floor. “No! What?! Dad, no!”

“Your dad’s right!” Ginny snapped. “If you can’t take your own safety seriously, you’re not allowed to do this anymore.”

“No, you don’t understand, that’s not why I was laughing—”

“You weren’t laughing because you thought the idea that they’d kill somebody was absurd?” Harry challenged.

Lily hesitated. “Okay, I _was_ laughing at that, but you don’t know _why_ I was.”

“You’ve got five seconds to enlighten us. One, two, three—”

Lily interrupted her mum. “Caden’s told me something about that group. And it changes things.”

Scorpius turned his gaze to Caden. He met everybody’s curious stares head-on, but Scorpius also noticed he’d clenched his fists. He heard Albus murmur something nasty beneath his breath.

“Caden knows something about this group that he hasn’t told us?” Harry asked. He turned his full attention to Caden. “What?”

Caden hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s in my best interest to tell you.”

“I’ll tell him,” Lily offered.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Caden argued.

“He’s going to find out anyway. Did you think it wouldn’t come up during our infiltration?”

“Hang on,” Albus called, outraged. “‘ _Our_ infiltration?’ What do you mean by that? Dad, you’re not sending Lily in with just _Rowle_ , are you?”

Caden narrowed his eyes at Albus. Albus glared right back.

“No, Albus. We’ll _all_ be nearby. Ron’s brought enough cordless Extendable Ears for all of us. Row—Caden, what is Lily talking about? What would we find out?”

Caden hedged around the question. “It’s possible you wouldn’t find anything out.”

Lily sighed. “Dad, he was with them at the start of term. With all these Mini Death Eaters. He was with them when he started flirting with me, in fact.”

“ _What_?!” Albus yelled.

“Sorry?!” James demanded.

“Oh, Caden, you didn’t,” Evvie said, a frown audible in her voice. “How’d you get mixed up in that? I thought you were better.”

“I think you’d better explain, Rowle. Right now,” said Harry dangerously. Scorpius noticed he’d pushed his hand into his pocket—no doubt the pocket that held his wand.

“It’s complicated,” Caden evaded. “Over the break, I…well, I never bought into all the Death Eater rubbish. I never thought Muggles were evil and out to get me, I never thought Muggleborns were lesser…but it’s…well, as I said, complicated, because my family members that raised me were very…big on Death Eater ideals and…well, I have a funny cousin…and, at first, it was really, truly only supposed to be about getting justice for the Death Eaters who’d been treated unfairly by the law. But by the time I got here and started meeting with the other ones involved in all of this, I realized it went much deeper…and when Iset refused to do what she was told to do it fell on me to do it…” Caden trailed off. He jerked his head towards Lily. “I thought she’d be the easiest one, so I started with her.”

“He was so wrong,” Lily laughed.

“I was supposed to get her on our side, but I couldn’t even change her mind about marmalade, and then we became…friends, and I didn’t really want to do what I was supposed to anymore, and things were getting really tense within the group. It was Carrow’s fault—the tenseness started after his stupidity. He was never supposed to approach Lily, or Albus, or James. He was _never_ supposed to harm Albus…their leader was really unhappy about that. And it caused a lot of issues. And once that curse had been used once, it set off a reaction in the idiots outside of Hogwarts, and the death of that ex-Auror put a spotlight on all the past-Death Eaters, and so for a while, we had little instruction coming from outside Hogwarts as they focused on organizing themselves around the new patrols. And that’s when Avery started getting a big head. He told me—well. He told me to do something that I refused, something I’d never do, and when I told him no, he got angry, and the next thing I knew I was getting Imperiused. I didn’t want to believe they’d turn on me, but it made sense. They never really cared about me. Which is fair, because I never really cared about them, either.”

Harry was staring at Caden with a dumbfounded expression, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ginny rubbed over her eyes wearily.

“I honestly don’t even know where to start on that one,” she muttered.

“That’s why I was laughing,” Lily admitted. “Because they’re not this…edgy, insanely organized group. We don’t really know what’s happened since Caden left, but I think they’re probably in even more chaos. It won’t be difficult to get information from them because they’re already so frazzled.”

“That could make them more dangerous, Lily,” Hermione pointed out. “People are often times more dangerous when they’re uncertain.”

Lily shook her head. “Not most of these Mini Death Eaters. Most of them haven’t got the nerve for this. Montague and Theva. Nott. Zabini. I don’t even think Avery’s as tough as he lets on. No, you know, in a way, I’m better-suited for what they’re trying to do than they are…just minus the whole murderous, prejudiced thing. And you know what’s more? I don’t think they’ve even got a uniting goal or leader, and without one of those, they’re weaker than babies.”

Scorpius felt optimistic for the first time following Lily’s spiel. What she said made sense, and the conviction in her tone made him want to believe in her. So when he looked over at Harry and saw him staring at Caden with that same cold gaze, he was thrown.

“Why are you looking at him like that?” Lily demanded. “He’s not a double agent. Well, in a bit he will be because he’ll be working for us and pretending to work for them. But he’s not using me, Dad.”

Harry hardly seemed to hear Lily. He didn’t look away from Caden.

“A ‘funny cousin’,” he repeated.

Caden’s face remained impassive.

“If you knew your, ah, _funny cousin_ was behind this all along, why didn’t you bother telling any of us that?”

Caden’s eyes widened just enough to be noticeable as a sign of surprise. “I never said my funny cousin was behind anything.”

“No, we figured it out on our own,” Harry said. He approached Caden. Caden watched him warily. “Are you lying to my face, Rowle? Are you manipulating and using my daughter? Well? _Are you?!_ ”

“No!” Caden said at once. “No, I’m not! I’m really not, Professor Potter, I swear, I swear. I swore it under Veritaserum once before, I’ll do it again if you want me to!”

“Well, that really didn’t mean much, did it? Because you found a way to cheat it.”

“I didn’t! I was asked if I was involved with Carrow and his mates—the answer _was_ no because I’d decided to abandon their cause soon after I’d met Lily! I was asked if I’d set out to hurt Aster or Lily—I hadn’t!”

“Why should I believe a word you say when you’ve kept this a secret the entire time?!”

Scorpius was lost.

“Kept what a secret?” asked Caden.

“Oh, don’t you try that rubbish with me!”

“Harry…” Ginny began.

“Please don’t tell me to calm down!” Harry said sharply.    

Ginny lifted her eyebrows, affronted.

“I wasn’t going to,” she said, her tone icy. Harry clenched his jaw and looked to the side.

“You didn’t answer, Rowle,” Ron said. He walked over and joined Harry’s side. He crossed his arms and looked at Caden. “Why didn’t you tell us about Delphi?”

Scorpius felt his stomach bottom out. He snapped his head to his left; Albus snapped his to the right. They met wide, horrified eyes.

“ _What_?!” they chorused.

The Sevens—sans James and Nora—knew nothing about Delphi, so their questioning ‘ _what?_ ’s were much calmer. Scorpius’s heart had picked up pace.

“Delphi? Did you say—Dad, did he say Delphi?” Scorpius asked. He drifted over towards his dad. Draco immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t supposed to…well, I didn’t mean to say her name,” Ron muttered sheepishly.

“What the _hell_ is going on?!” Albus yelled.

“Okay,” Ginny sighed. “I’m going to put on the kettle. Harry, you might want to start at the beginning.”

* * *

 

Scorpius felt numb.

“Delphi,” he said. _Delphi who tortured me, Delphi who murdered somebody in front of us, Delphi who almost ruined everything, Delphi who manipulated my boyfriend._ “Delphi’s doing all of this.”

“Some of it,” Caden corrected. “Most of what’s happened here she hasn’t had much say in, thanks to Carrow and the chaos his short temper caused.”

“I told you we should’ve killed her,” Albus spat.

“Albus, that’s not the way,” Harry said at once.

“Yeah? You’re sure about that, are you? Because we did it your way, Dad, and look what’s happened! How could you _let_ this happen?! Both of you! What—you didn’t think the other Death Eaters locked up in Azkaban would find it interesting that Voldemort’s—sodding—daughter was in there with them?!” Albus raged.

“We weren’t concerned about a rebellion inside Azkaban or an escape. The guards…well, we thought they were better than they clearly turned out to be,” Hermione explained. “Carrow never should’ve been released in the first place. It was one of the first calls Grey made. I should have countered it, but I knew why he was doing it, to try and get some of the heat off the department after Amycus Carrow died in prison. I assumed he’d done his homework on the matter. I assumed he would’ve spent time at Azkaban figuring out what sort of connections she’d made within Azkaban.”

“He was in over his head from the start,” Harry said bitterly. His head was bowed. He was running his fingers through his wildly tousled hair. “Not his fault, it was mine. I left things in such disarray. I was so ready to leave.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Hermione argued immediately. “Nobody’s except mine. I should’ve reexamined Kingsley’s Azkaban reformation. I assumed more than I should have. I assumed that the guards would’ve known not to let released prisoners visit high-profile inmates, but there was no specific rule—I checked. What’s more, Delphi really did a number on those guards. Played up the innocent little girl act and they fell for it. She treated Alecto Carrow like a mum, and Alecto Carrow treated her like a daughter. The guards in charge of Delphi’s cell said she refused to eat for four days straight after Alecto was released. They said she cried herself to sleep multiple times. So when she asked to see her, they genuinely believed it was just because she missed her. They said every meeting the two ever had was innocent enough.”

“She manipulated them. She’s good at that,” Albus said darkly. “What now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’? We just told you our plan,” Harry said.

Albus glanced at Scorpius, alarmed.

“That’s _it_?! Our only plan rests on the shoulders of my reckless thirteen-year-old sister?”

“Not our _only_ plan; the start to a series of plans,” Hermione reassured him. “We’re going to hit this from as many angles as they have been.”

“Why bother? She’s already won,” Albus said.

“What?” Ginny demanded. She reached across the table and took Albus’s hands. “Why would you say that, Al?”

“She’s got thousands of dementors at her command. She can do whatever she likes.”

An uneasy silence fell over their group. Everybody exchanged nervous glances.

“That may be so,” Harry said. “But if we can convince her _not_ to call on them, the battle’s won.”

Scorpius hesitated. “How are you going to convince Delphi of anything?”

“Not by conversation, as it turns out. She won’t speak with us,” Hermione said. “But I _know_ she’s at least got some capacity to feel actual, human emotions. I don’t think her breakdown after Alecto left was pure manipulation; she really did seem desperate for love and family when we last saw her, after she tried to ruin everything in the past. So this is what we’re going to do: first, I’ve already got her isolated from all visitors. She can’t send or receive any letters and every single letter going in and out of the prison is being checked, to make sure she can’t get somebody else to send the message in a letter. While her contact to the outside is completely cut off, we’ve got double the Aurors shadowing the involved Death Eaters. As soon as we can find out more—preferably who is in charge of the dementors, how power is delegated within their group, who has contact with students here, when their next group gathering is so we can catch them all at once—we will act. But not a moment before then, because too much is at risk.”

“And say you ‘act’ and it’s successful. What are you going to do with all of them?” Albus asked.

“Yeah,” Nora agreed. She looked a bit peaky like she might be sick at any moment. Scorpius got a sudden urge to reassure her that everything would be okay. But then again, this was _Delphi_. “What will you do with Delphi? Counseling? It sounds like she really needs help.”

“Yes, actually,” Hermione said. “We probably should’ve done that in the first place, instead of just…locking her away with more angry people incapable of love.”

“I shouldn’t have let you,” Harry said. He looked up. “I knew what it was like to grow up without a mum and dad, how angry it can make you, how far it can push you, and I didn’t say a word. I was so angry about all she’d done to my son.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Ginny said firmly. “It is what it is. We have to move on from it and fix it.”

“So…” Ben began. He hadn’t said a word the entire conversation. He shook his head in stunned disbelief. “I’m having some trouble wrapping my head around this…so Lord Voldemort shagged somebody…he undressed and he…shagged somebody.”

“Well, he impregnated Bellatrix Lestrange somehow, anyway,” Ron shuddered.

“Hang on…can you even have sex if you’ve only got a sliver of your soul? You can’t feel love without a soul, right? How can you have sex if you can’t feel love?” James asked.

James’s friends immediately began laughing. Nora scolded them weakly, but she didn’t look up to doing much more than that; she still looked unwell. Albus rolled his eyes. Harry and Ginny looked at James with amused fondness. Nora let her head fall against James’s shoulder.

“That might be _the_ most _James-like_ question I’ve ever heard,” Roxanne sniggered.

“What?” James asked, a bit defensively. “Why are you laughing?”

“Mate, you can have sex with somebody you don’t love. People do it often. Probably more than they have sex with somebody that they do love,” Jacques said.

James waved his hand dismissively. “But they don’t _really_ , do they? You wouldn’t have sex with somebody you don’t cherish. They say that they don’t love them, but they just _say_ that. Like Evvie. Evvie always said she didn’t fancy Ben, but deep down, she secretly did all along.”

“Don’t bring _me_ into this argument about Voldemort’s potency,” Evvie said. 

“But people shag people they don’t care for all the time. People shag complete _strangers_ all the time…” Roxanne trailed off at the look on James’s face. He looked like he’d just been slapped. “…That’s not to say that real love doesn’t exist. It’s just not…well, sex just isn’t special or about love…well, what I mean is…”

“What do you mean ‘sex isn’t about love’?!” James cried, outraged.

“We’re off topic,” Ginny interrupted firmly. “This isn’t what we’re meant to be—”

“Well, it’s not _really,_ is it?” Jacques agreed. “It’s about procreation.”

“No! No!” James stood up from his chair so quickly that it fell backwards and clattered to the floor. “No, procreation happens _because of love,_ because sex happens because of love, because when you love somebody you love them so completely that you want to—”

“Okay, James,” Harry interrupted. He was looking at him oddly. “Please sit down.”

James rounded on Harry. “You’re just going to let them say that?! You’re just going to agree that sex isn’t about love?!”

Harry opened his mouth wordlessly. “I—James, I don’t think that this conversation—”

“Merlin!” James cried, horrified. He looked between his parents, his eyes wide and haunted, his face ashen. “Oh, no. I thought you two loved each other!”

“Jamie! We do love each other!” Ginny cried. “What has gotten into you? Why are you so upset?”

“Because you’re all really messing with my worldview! What about you, Uncle Ron?”

Ron’s face was as red as his hair. “What…about me?”

“Oh my—for fu—Ben!”

“I’m on your side, mate,” Ben said at once.

“Sex _can_ be about love, but it doesn’t _have_ to be,” Clementine told James firmly.

“But it mostly is,” James countered.

“I don’t think there’s evidence to that,” Louis admitted.

James was going alarmingly red in the face. “How are people meant to feel safe living in this world and loving people in this world and raising children in this world if nothing makes sense anymore and evil dictators without souls can have evil daughters who control groups who are led by a woman who thinks a curse that makes somebody bleed to death is a family heirloom and worlds where people have to put their families at risk just to have a shot at not dying and worlds where too much sugar can actually lead to diseases that kill you? Is nothing sacred and safe anymore?!”

Scorpius’s jaw actually dropped. He wasn’t the only one. Everybody stared as James slowly picked his seat back up and then sank back down into it, somewhat sheepish.

“…What the hell is wrong with you?” Albus asked.

“Have you been drinking?” Lily demanded.

Hermione stood. “I’ll just…get more scones. How’s that sound? More scones?”

Nobody answered. Hermione summoned the plate and slid them over in front of James and Nora. The inviting aroma of warm chocolate emitted from them. Scorpius was just thinking about how nice it smelled as Nora gave an odd sound—sort of a choke/whimper. He looked up at her. She’d doubled over at the waist, so he couldn’t make out her facial expression, but her forehead had a clammy sheen to it. James’s hand immediately settled on her back. Scorpius heard her breaths turn rapid and shallow.

“Oh no,” Scorpius whispered, because he could instinctively tell what was coming. Sure enough, she jumped to her feet a moment later. Her legs quivered beneath her.

“Sorry I—need to go—cry,” she said, and without pausing for a response, she ran towards the nearest loo. James didn’t spare anybody so much as a glance as he followed after her. The door slammed shut, the shower was turned on, and nobody could make out much from beneath the roar of the water.

“Is she really crying? Because it looked like she was going to be sick,” Lily commented.

“Are the scones that bad?” Ron wondered, reaching for one of them.

“No…” Ginny said suspiciously, her eyes narrowed. She was staring at the closed toilet door. “No…they’re not.”

“They were drinking,” Ben said hurriedly. “Lily’s right. They were last night and this morning. That’s what’s wrong with them.”

“Anyway,” Evvie said suddenly, loudly enough to draw everybody’s attention away from the room Nora and James had just disappeared into. “What’s the plan for all of us while Lily’s speaking with Avery and his group?”

* * *

 

By the time the party hour rolled around, Scorpius had not gotten any farther on his essay, and he was starting to doubt that he’d ever complete it.

“Okay, we’re supposed to sit…here,” Albus mumbled. He pulled on Scorpius’s hand and brought them to a stop in front of a cozy pair of armchairs situated in the corner of the decorated Great Hall. “I’ll get our Extendable Ears set up; will you go get some sweets and food for us? If we’ll have to be in this corner eavesdropping all night, might as well have something to eat while we do it…”

Scorpius nodded. “All right. We should’ve brought our essays.”

“No, we shouldn’t have. It’d distract us, wouldn’t it?”

“Only if you actually paid attention to it, and that’s unlikely.”

“Oi!” Albus demanded. He laughed a moment later, though.

The House tables had been removed from the Great Hall for the party. The Hall was warm and thriving, with massive bright pumpkins littered along the walls, cozy seating options, plenty of space to dance, and a floating array of all the best Halloween sweets and snacks. The air smelled distinctly spicy. Scorpius stood at the floating sweets and began to grab handfuls of things he knew Albus liked from the air, stuffing them down into his robes.

“Scorpius,” James approached. Scorpius turned. James reached out and patted his shoulder. “You’ll need to take your Slytherin tie off and button your robes; we’re not supposed to have any House identification on. You’ll also need to go over to Nora and pick your mask before everybody else starts arriving. Try to keep it on all night, all right?”

Scorpius nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but as he observed James’s pale face, he found himself asking: “Are you okay?”

James hesitated. “Oh. Er. Yeah, just…stressed, is all. Have a good time.”

Scorpius stuffed his pockets full of various sweets and then walked over to the entrance, where Nora was set up at a table littered with beautiful, hand-made masks. Evvie and Clementine were seated at her sides—Evvie was in charge of taking wands, Clementine in charge of writing down the information—and, currently, the three girls were whispering back and forth. Scorpius didn’t want to interrupt, so he waited until a few early Ravenclaws trickled in, and then he got into the queue behind them.

“Oak, dragon heartstring…perfect,” Clementine murmured. She scrawled the information out on a length of parchment as Evvie placed the wand inside a wooden box. Nora offered the Ravenclaws a wane smile.

“Choose a mask, any one you like,” she said. “Oh, and you’ll need to remove your Ravenclaw scarf. Sorry, it’s policy.”

The Ravenclaw—a sixth year, Scorpius was almost certain—stared at her. “What?”

She pointed at her own throat. “Your scarf? You can’t wear anything associated with your House. It’s on the rules printed on the doors?”

The Ravenclaw kept staring, long enough that Scorpius was beginning to feel uncomfortable. James, who’d been standing near the doors with Ben, somehow picked up on it. He was over at Nora’s side in a couple of seconds. He wrapped his arm around her waist at once.

“What are you looking at?” he demanded. “Get your mask and take off your scarf or leave, all right?”

The Ravenclaw looked affronted. “Fine…just an odd rule, is all…what’s gotten into you, James?”

“He’s ill.”

“I’m tired.”

“He’s stressed.”

James, Nora, and Evvie exchanged a quick look.

“He’s…stressed and tired because he’s ill,” Nora said. She forced a smile. “So…how about an elephant? I think that’d be brilliant, what do you think?”

When it was Scorpius’s turn, he made a point of looking at his hands, so they wouldn’t think he was being nosy. But he couldn’t help but sneak glances up at them every few moments.

“Tie?” Evvie asked. Scorpius quickly loosened it and removed it. He passed it to her. “Does Albus have his on?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Here,” Nora said. “Pick whichever you like.”

“Okay, thanks,” Scorpius said. He studied the masks without really seeing them. “They’re lovely, Nora.”

“Oh, yeah? Thank you,” she smiled. “I wanted to do a few more designs, but I didn’t have the time.”

Scorpius randomly grabbed an owl and a phoenix, and after a few more exchanged niceties, he hurried back to his corner to tell Albus that something was certainly going on.

* * *

 

They were curled up in their armchairs, warmed by the flickering flames dancing inside a nearby pumpkin the size of a fireplace, sweets spilling across their laps as they focused on the words coming from the tiny, nearly indiscernible Extendable Ears.

“If things go badly,” Ginny was whispering to Lily. “All you’ve got to do is fit Rita Skeeter’s name into the conversation, and we’ll send somebody for you.”

“They’re grouped in that far corner right now, but I think they’ll eventually move into the back corner that Albus, Scorpius, Jacques, and Roxanne are in as the Aurors start passing by the opened Great Hall doors,” Harry added.

“If either of you feel threatened, remember to get out. Avery is a bit unstable. We don’t want anybody playing martyr. Understood?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Lily said impatiently. “Can we do this now?”

“You know, some kids your age get a thrill from normal things like, oh, I dunno, Chess and collecting Chocolate Frog cards,” Ginny said.

“Yeah, I know. Those are the kids that I avoid. Strange, aren’t they? Bye, Mum and Dad, I’ve got this!”

“Wait! Lulu, Lily—we aren’t done yet,” Harry hissed.

“Oh, all right. What?”

“You need to follow the script, Lily. Say that you will.”

“I will…dowhatIhavetodo.”

“What?”

“Dad, can I have diplomatic immunity?”

“ _What_?”

“Like can I swear as much as I want without being punished, can I—”

“Just…go over there, Lily,” Ginny said tiredly. “Good luck. We’ll be out here the entire time. Your brothers are in there, all his friends—”

“Yeah, I’m not worried. Caden’s not either. Right, Caden?”

“No. We’ve got our wands and they don’t,” Caden said.

Scorpius thought it was a fair point.

“Lily and Caden have just entered the Hall,” Evvie’s voice said. “We’ve got eyes on them from our corner. They’re walking over towards Avery, Nott, Zabini, and Theva. Montague isn’t here.”

“I wonder where he is?” Jacques asked. Scorpius glanced over at him; he was actually near enough to see, unlike everybody else they could hear on the Extendable Ears. He and Roxanne were occupying armchairs only a few paces away.

“I don’t think Montague will be here,” Draco said. “He’s having some trouble—”

Avery’s voice crackled through the line, causing Scorpius’s dad to cease speaking at once.

“Rowle. Move along,” Avery said.

“Lily and I came by to—”

“We don’t care what you and that Potter Plague came over here to do,” Avery bit. “ _Move. Along._ ”

Scorpius exchanged a worried look with Albus. Not a great start.

Lily scoffed. “I told you, Caden,” she said. “Waste of our time—they’re a bloody joke, come on...”

“No, wait,” Caden said, with enough urgent frustration that, for a moment, Scorpius forgot they were pretending. “Just hang on a moment. Avery, Lily and I have some questions, and we’re realizing…well, we’ve been spending time practicing Dark Magic, and we’re both rather good, and—”

Derisive laughter emitted from the others.

“You’re rather good, are you?” Nott cackled. “Oh, that’s great.”

“Right,” Lily said, and Scorpius got the strangest feeling that she’d just flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not going to stand here with this junior league of losers—I told you we should do it on our own.”

“Watch your mouth, Potter,” Zabini warned.

“You always watch it for me, Zabini, why should both of us do the same job?” Lily said.

“I…what is that supposed to mean?”

“Merlin, don’t be daft; your crush is embarrassingly obvious. Caden, when you’re done talking to this disorganized bunch of betrayers, I’ll be over there getting some sweets.”

Scorpius guessed Lily truly had walked off, because after a long pause, Caden said:

“I told you idiots to let me do it my way and you just couldn’t help yourselves, could you? You betrayed me.”

“We did what we had to do.”

“None of you have any _idea_ what to do. I don’t know who thought the Imperius would be a better solution than doing it slow and steady, but you’ve majorly messed up. Here are all the things your group has managed to do since returning: you’ve managed to nearly kill the one person Delphi explicitly said was not to be harmed—”

Scorpius looked down at Albus. Albus met his gaze, confused and troubled. They didn’t have any opportunity to discuss that comment.

“—you’ve alienated me, Iset Goyle, Scorpius Malfoy, and every Potter—all the ones you were supposed to bring into the cause. You’ve got all the professors suspicious; they’re watching you closely. Worse yet, your stupidity has tipped them off to the fact that your parents are involved in all the things that have happened outside of Hogwarts, and now they’ve got double patrols on them.”

“Your point?” Avery snapped, after a heavy silence.

“My point is that, of all of us, I’m the only one who’s been successful.”

“You haven’t been successful! You were given orders to turn the Potters against their father, and instead, you’ve been eating meals with the Potters! You’ve been kissing a Potter Plague! We’re not idiots, Rowle!”

“Yeah, well, you must be,” Rowle said. “Because Lily has a real command over Dark. And she’s _extremely_ fed up with her family. She’s ready to change, and because you lot are so disorganized, she doesn’t think you’re worth her time. I thought maybe…” Caden trailed off. “Nevermind. We’ll do it on our own. And when Delphi takes over, she’ll recognize that Lily and I were the ones who single-handedly managed to follow her instructions, whereas you and your mates just made a huge mess.”

It seemed like a huge gamble, and for a moment, Scorpius was certain it wouldn’t pay off. There was a long silence.

“They look like they’re talking about it,” Evvie whispered, her voice traveling through the Extendable Ears. “They look concerned.”

“They should be,” Lily said, unconcerned. “They just lost their best chance at success.”

“Lulu, this is _not_ the strategy we discussed,” Harry hissed urgently. “What are you planning?”

“Oh—shit, here they come,” Lily murmured. Scorpius popped a Pepper Imp into his mouth as the silence dragged on. He screwed his face up in minty-flavored delight as steam emitted from his ears. He felt a _pop!_.

“Oh, oh no,” he said. His Extendable Ear had popped out. He slid forward on his seat and peered around the floor urgently for the tiny, tan-colored ball. By the time he spotted it near his shoe and replaced it back into his ear, he’d missed enough to be confused.

“—can’t just walk over to me, in the middle of the Halloween dance, and ask me to demonstrate Dark Magic,” Lily was ranting. “Are you actually an idiot?”

“How do we know you’re not just having us on?”

“Because I’m currently spending my weekdays in detention for doing Dark Magic, you absolute—”

“She doesn’t even have a wand,” Caden scoffed. “How is she meant to demonstrate Dark Magic?”

“No, you know what,” Lily said. (“Lily…” Harry groaned, horrified.) “I _do_ have my wand. And I _will_ demonstrate Dark Magic.”

“How do you still have your—?! Don’t point that at me!”

“You wanted me to demonstrate. Which shall I do?”

“Not on _me_! Point that away!”

“You look a bit worried, Avery. I thought I was, in your words, a ‘silly little girl’.”

“Put that _away_!”

“Oh, not on you? Okay. Who shall I do it on? My brother? Sure. You know, I don’t think he ever really loved me.”

“No! You’re—you’re out of your mind! You can’t just do it in plain sight! You’ll get us all into trouble! You’re mad!”

“Brilliant, now you’re catching on. Let’s go, Caden. I can’t believe they asked me to do that—the nerve…”

There was only a short pause this time. “Wait. Wait, come back…”

“Why should I?”

“You said you had plans. You said you knew how to do what our parents wanted us to. How?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because we could join up. It’s silly to have two separate groups…our parents wouldn’t like that. Delphi wouldn’t like that.”

“Your group isn’t doing too well. Where’s the other bloke who’s usually with you?”

“Saul?” Claire Theva offered.

“Sure, I guess. The grumpy one with the square chin.”

“Saul. He’s a mudblood sympathizer. He didn’t like some of the more traditional Death Eater values.” Avery paused. “How do _you_ feel about them? You’ve got loads of mud in your blood, Potter.”

“How do I feel about it? Well, I’m certain I didn’t get any of my power from the muggles in my ancestry,” Lily answered, quick and confident. “You’re only alienating more people by bringing blood status into this.”

“But we hate mudbloods.”

“And I hate your haircut, but I didn’t say that right when I walked over because it’d make you think less favorably of me,” Lily said. “You’re coming on too strong too quickly. You—hang on; step over here, I think people are looking at us…”

“This isn’t a good place to talk,” Nott said nervously.

“It’s actually the best place. The more people there are, the less likely we are to be overheard,” Lily dismissed. “Okay. Look, if you want my help—and you desperately need it—we’ll need to start at the beginning. What are you planning in the short term? If it’s anything like what you’ve planned before…it’s going to be rubbish.”

“We were—”

“Avery!” Nott cried.

“She’s right, Jillian. We need to change our approach. Our families aren’t going to be happy with us. And I’m starting to think…” he trailed off. “They didn’t even write to check on us after the dementors.”

“Seriously?” Lily demanded.

“Well, yeah. We’re here to do a job for them. That’s what we’re on the earth for. But you’d know all about that, Potter,” Nott said.

“…Right,” said Lily, and for the first time, she sounded a bit uncertain. If there was one thing Lily Potter knew absolutely nothing about, it was being raised by people who didn’t love her. “Yeah. My parents…oh, yeah, I know all about that…”

“We haven’t made them proud,” Avery continued. “It’s no wonder they wouldn’t care what happened to us.”

Scorpius frowned deeply at that.

“It sounds like they’re not really sure what they’re doing, either,” Lily admitted. “All the random and violent attacks on Ministry officials…I’m afraid your entire operation might be a bit…rubbish.”

“It’s not,” Claire Theva said angrily. “We know we’re doing the right thing; our world is not right! It doesn’t treat us right! It treats us horribly! They’re slowly weakening the Ministry and the public’s faith in it bit by bit to make it easier to attack once Delphi escapes!”

“Right, but consider this: you’re only making yourselves into the bad guys again,” Lily sang.

“What do you mean?”

“You should’ve just exposed the Potter-controlled Ministry for the evil that it is,” Lily continued. “Instead of acting violently. Now, I don’t blame _you lot,_ mind you; I know violence is the only way your family members really know how to handle things. But _we_ know better. Don’t we?”

Silence.

“There _is_ a better way. I agree with all of you…Dark Magic is wonderful…there’s nothing quite as exciting, and we should all have the right to practice it! We should all have the right to live without fear of Muggles…attacking us! And…we have a right to live away from filthy…mudbloods,” she hesitated for a moment. The word seemed difficult for her to say; she sort of forced it out. Scorpius winced.

“Damn,” Albus groaned. “She’s losing momentum. She can’t do it.”

“And my parents are far too...”

“Mad? Unstable? Corrupt?” Theva provided.

“…Yep. They’re all of those things and they shouldn’t be allowed to control our government and make your lives so difficult. The good news is: my parents think I’m their precious little girl. They’d never imagine I’d be doing this. They think I’m just a bit frustrated at being treated like a child—they have no idea how deep it goes. I’m tired of being held down by them. I’ve got a major advantage because none of them would ever want to hurt me.”

“So what do _you_ suggest, if you’re so clever? We can’t just ignore our family members’ orders,” Nott said. “We’ve got an important role.”

“I’m not suggesting you ignore any orders. But I think that we, collectively, know better. Old people are sort of…stupid. They’re so stuck in their backwards ways and it really affects their decision-making abilities. Things need to change, but I think that we can probably find a better way to bring about that change. I can help you. You don’t have to like me, but you’ve got to respect the fact that I know what I’m doing and I’m strong. I’m the asset you need to win this. So. You will all meet me at the end of the seventh floor corridor tomorrow at eight. We’ll discuss what plans you were given and find a way to make them more…efficient. More logical.”

 “Oh, we _will_ meet you there, will we?” Zabini scoffed.

“Yes,” Lily said calmly. “You will. Because you’re in over your heads and you’ll be in extreme danger if you fail. And if you listen to me, you just might make it out of this as winners.”

“Why there? Why tomorrow?” Zabini pressed.

“Because I’m very tired of this conversation and I’d like to go party now,” Lily said. “My best friend’s waiting for me. Goodbye.”

“And…she and Caden have walked away from the group,” Evvie muttered. “Oh my God.”

“Piece of cake,” Lily said.

* * *

 

They all met up in the Potters’ living quarters after the party. Harry rounded on Lily at once.

“I told you to get in, get as much information as you could, and get out! And you _made yourself their leader_?! Lily! What were you _thinking_?!”

“I was thinking that you said to go with the flow! They were clearly lacking strong leadership, Dad!”

“So you think you’re best suited to be their leader?!”

“I mean…yeah. They’re all idiots. I’m not an idiot. Now I can steer them in the right direction.”

“I don’t—Ginny, you’re going to have to handle her, because I—Merlin, Lily, why do you have to make me worry so much all the time?! You’ve just got yourself involved long-term!”

“Yes, exactly, Dad!” Lily shot back. “By the time I’m finished with them, they’re going to realize the best course of action is to step away from their crazy Death Eater relatives and wait for Scorpius’s dad to draft better laws! They set out to brainwash me, but I’m going to brainwash them. How’s that for karma?”

“And what was that rubbish about me ‘not really loving you’?!” Albus demanded.

“I wasn’t pointing at you. I was pointing at James.”

“What?!” James exclaimed, wounded. “You think I don’t love you?”

“No, I was just saying what I thought they wanted to hear.”

“Lily, this was a mistake,” Ginny said. “This wasn’t what we wanted. We didn’t want you getting so deeply into this.”

“But why? I can help. Did you see how easily they caved to me? They’re so desperate for a guiding hand that they don’t even care that it’s Harry Potter’s daughter’s hand.”

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Albus spat.

“Yes, of course. I did a great job.”

Scorpius thought that she should’ve been a Slytherin Potter, too. But then again, her nerve was probably just a smidgen stronger than her cunningness.

Lily continued. “I told them to meet me near the Room of Requirement, so all of you can be inside of it, and we can use the Extendable Ears again. It’s going to be okay. You worry too much. This won’t take me long at all.”

Scorpius spotted Harry and Ginny exchanging a pained look.

* * *

 

They spent the majority of the following day trying to catch up on their schoolwork, but it was proving to be difficult thanks to the many distractions (Lily’s infiltration, the Delphi discovery, Albus’s wandering attention span). It didn’t help matters that they’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep the night prior; Albus had woken the entire dorm with an alarming shout after only a few hours of sleep. He claimed he couldn’t remember his nightmare, but Scorpius had a hunch it involved Delphi.

“Okay,” Albus finally said. He pushed his Transfiguration book away from him. “Shall we try and find James again?”

“It’s that or Rose.”

“And again: absolutely not.”

* * *

 

They had to pace in front of the empty wall a few times before the door to the Sevens’ headquarters appeared. Scorpius was first through the doorway, and the moment he stepped in, the people within the room froze. Scorpius did, too. He stared at the small group of Sevens, confused by their reaction.

“Er…hello?” he greeted hesitantly.

The group—Nora, Evvie, Clementine, Roxanne, Bec, Sara—seemed to let out a collective breath of relief.

“It’s fine,” he heard Clementine murmur. “Not Ginny.”

“Hi, Scorpius and Albus,” Nora called. Her voice sounded smaller than usual and she was drowning in one of James’s Christmas jumpers (ruby with a golden _J_ knitted on the front). _Ethereal_ was the word he usually thought of when he saw Nora, but today, _feeble_ seemed a better one. Scorpius couldn’t decide whether to give her a sympathetic grimace or a polite smile and ended up giving her a really weird expression. She hardly seemed to notice.

“Everything okay?” Evvie asked. She stood up from the sofa the six girls were seated on. Scorpius quickly nodded. Albus—who’d joined him—answered.

“Fine. We were just looking for James.”

“Oh,” Nora said. Her face seemed to fall further. “Yeah. ‘Course. He’s right through there,” she pointed at a cracked door. “He’s somehow got the Room to acquire a working Floo…having a chat, should only be another moment or so…”

Scorpius nodded and walked over, sinking down into an armchair across from the occupied sofa. Albus, however, nodded while walking _towards_ the door.

“Albus?” Scorpius hissed.

“I’m just going to check if he’s done,” Albus defended. But Scorpius knew he was really snooping and wanted to see who James was Flooing. Scorpius watched anxiously as Albus pushed the door open. “James?”

James stepped into the opened doorway. He had soot smeared across his forehead, and maybe it was the contrast of that with his freckled skin, but he looked paler than usual.

“Oh, hey, Al,” he greeted distractedly, and without another word, he brushed past Albus and took long, urgent strides over to the sofa. He plopped down between Nora and Evvie.

“Well?” Roxanne demanded.

Scorpius watched curiously as James took Nora’s hand. He held it tightly between both of his. Nora’s head fell against his shoulder. Well, at least they weren’t arguing.  “Vic was busy. I did chat with one of her colleagues briefly, though.”

“Victoire?” Albus demanded. He was ignored.

“And?” Nora breathed.

“And she had a…theory…as to how this…happened…despite our…proper precautions. She asked me loads about—” James’s words broke off with a grunt as Roxanne leaned over Evvie and smacked James’s stomach. She pointed at Scorpius sitting across from them, and then Albus, making his way over towards Scorpius. James’s eyes widened. “Oh. Hey, Al. Hey, Scorpius.”

“You already told me hello,” Albus said, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He fell down into the armchair with Scorpius. Scorpius scooted over to give him more room. “What’s happened, James?”

“Nothing,” he said at once. He looked back at Nora. “She asked me loads of questions about…Potions.”

“Potions?” Nora questioned. Clementine cleared her throat pointedly. Sara reached over the back of the sofa and gently tugged on Nora’s loose hair. Her face opened with realization a moment later. “ _Oh_! Yes!”

“I didn’t have the answers to her questions, though. I was going to come get you but she had to leave suddenly…there was an emergency.”

“Nora,” Evvie said. “You keep it with you, right? In your bag? I’ve seen you take it at breakfast.”

“Yes, right, I do,” Nora agreed. She summoned her bag over to her and rummaged around inside of it. She pulled out what looked like a pencil case a moment later. From it, she withdrew a ruby dropper bottle, filled halfway with some sort of thick substance. She handed it over to Evvie, who unscrewed the dropper top and withdrew it. Immediately, the slightly bitter, earthy scent of clary sage permeated the air. Scorpius recognized it at once, thanks to all the time he’d spent in apothecary shops during the worst parts of his mum’s illness. He used to wander around smelling every displayed herb while his dad talked with the potioneers. Even now, years later, the smell evoked a perfect memory of the card in front of the clary sage bucket. He could see the block lettering of the herb name, followed underneath by scrawling script that explained its many purposes.

“ _Ooh_ ,” Scorpius breathed, where only Albus could hear.

“What?” Albus hissed. He was watching as Clementine and Evvie each tasted a drop of the potion, their expressions pursed in deep concentration.

“It’s something to do with lady things,” Scorpius whispered back. “Clary sage. A lot of…lady potions use it.”

His explanation didn’t help clear anything up for Albus.

“Clary-what? What are you on about?”

“Tastes a tiny bit off,” Clementine finally said. “Though I see what you mean, Nora; mixed in pumpkin juice like you do, it’d seem perfectly all right.” She lowered down to sit on the carpet in front of Evvie and Nora. Nora looked immediately to Evvie, her expression a bit desperate.

“Sorry. I agree,” Evvie admitted. “It tastes wrong. Did you make it?”

“Yes! And I’m great at Potions! I’ve been making it for ages!” Nora defended. Her voice was edging on desperation. At that urgent tone, Albus reached up and grabbed onto the collar of Scorpius’s robes. He pulled his ear down and hissed into it: “What is going on?!”

Scorpius turned to look at him and whispered back: “I think…periods.”

Albus immediately let go of Scorpius’s collar. “Oh.”

“Where’d you get the ingredients then?” Evvie continued.

“I ordered them in bulk in Diagon Alley like I always…” Nora trailed off abruptly. “Oh –” she said a word that made Scorpius blink in surprise. “The angelica root…I always have to hide the ingredients at the bottom of my trunk so my dads won’t find them and the root got a bit smashed this time and some of the moisture was pressed out—but some people use dried angelica root, so I didn’t think it would be a problem—”

It was indeed a problem. Evvie and Clementine exchanged a horrified look. Nora cringed away from them.

“Oh, no,” she realized. “It was a problem, wasn’t it?”

“I work summers in the apothecary with my aunt…when they dry the angelica root, they don’t smash or press it dry first, they use a special process that preserves the root in its entirety,” Evvie admitted.

Nobody moved.

“It was only a tiny bit that was pressed out!” Nora said, horrified.

And still, nobody moved or said a thing, though Clementine and Evvie exchanged another quick look. Nora looked up at James. He met her grimace with a concerned frown.

“So…so you mean to tell me…for the past five months I’ve been taking…” Nora trailed off.

“Nothing, basically,” Clementine said, as gently as she could. “If…well, it’s possible it could’ve worked just fine despite, but…evidence suggests…yeah.”

_Uh oh._ Scorpius was beginning to understand—or, at least, he thought he was. He _knew_ he’d read about a potion that loosely fit the description of the one they were discussing—and he knew it had _something_ to do with the reproductive cycle—but he didn’t want to say anything for fear of being incorrect. Especially since the implications of what he was assuming were so dire.

Albus was even farther from the mark, but at least still in the general range.

“That’s what this is about?” Albus demanded. He sounded cross. “All of this because Nora’s got _period pains_? James, Mum’s doing her _own_ head in with all the worrying! Madam Pomfrey can give you whatever pain potion you messed up, Nora, and James—you need to go apologize to our Mum because she’s been worrying herself sick—”

“No, Albus, that’s not…” Scorpius interrupted quickly. He hesitated. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think the potion is…you know.”

“I do? I know?”

“No, I mean… _you know_. Birth control.”

Albus’s eyes widened. “Birth control?!”

“Yeah, you know, contraceptives, a potion girls can take to keep from getting pregnant,” Scorpius whispered back. “Going by the ingredients mentioned.”

Albus was staring at the carpet with a furrowed brow.

“Wait a moment…” he murmured. “But if she messed it up…and she didn’t know it…” Albus looked up at him and gaped. He pointed. “She—the scones! The—arguing! Oh!”

Albus turned at once to look at his brother and Nora. He cocked his head to the side and squinted hard at Nora’s abdomen as if he might be able to do a scanning spell with his eyes. They hardly seemed to notice Albus’s gaze; Nora was holding James’s middle tightly, her ear resting over the center of his chest, her eyes staring unseeingly at the wall as James held her, one hand rubbing idly down her waist as he did. He was murmuring something to her, and Scorpius couldn’t be positive, but it sounded like he was saying: “It’s all going to be okay. Doesn’t change a thing. Nothing could. Nothing ever will.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nora whispered back, loudly enough that Scorpius could make it out with some certainty. She lifted her head and looked back up at James. Her eyes were wide and shimmering behind tears. “I had no idea, all of this is my fault, I’m so sorry.”

James frowned. He reached up and took her face into his hands, his thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones. His responding words were too soft and sweet to discern, but they must’ve been comforting because both smiled at each other a moment afterwards.

“ _Technically_ ,” Scorpius sang beneath his breath. “It’s _James’s_ fault…”

And it finally clicked fully for Albus. He snapped his head in James’s direction.

“ _You didn’t_ ,” he breathed. James was mid-kiss, but at that, he leaned back. He slowly dropped his hands from Nora’s face.  

“I honestly forgot you were there, Al,” he admitted with a grimace.

Albus was gaping. He looked between James and Nora. “You…you…you’ve gotten her pregnant! Merlin’s saggy bollocks! You’ve _gotten her pregnant!_ She’s…she’s… _oh my God_! You idiot! How’d you manage that?! I know Dad’s not the best at talks but he even told _me_ all the ways to avoid _that_ and I’m not even dating somebody who could _get_ pregnant!”  

James seemed to have stopped breathing. There was a heavy pause. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he finally said. He rested his head back against the sofa cushions. “She’s got period pains.”

“Mum and Dad are going to murder you!”

“Because Nora has period pains? That’s odd.”

“James!”

“What are you doing here, Albus?” James asked. He sounded very tired now.

“I…we…needed help with our Transfiguration essay,” Albus dismissed. “James, you have to tell Mum and Dad.”

James ignored Albus’s latter words. He rested his chin against the top of Nora’s head. “I’ll come help you in a bit, all right? Want to meet in the library in an hour?”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me!”

“Yes. I am. I want to talk to my girlfriend without my brother eavesdropping. Now goodbye. I’ll see you in an hour.”  

“I’m going to tell Mum!” Albus exploded. He looked furious. Scorpius was sure that knowing James didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth was the main issue.

Still cuddled up with Nora, and seemingly indifferent to Albus’s threat, James said: “It would disappoint me if you did that. It would surprise me if you did that. It would really hurt me if you did that. But if that’s what you want to do—I can’t stop you. Bye, Al.”

With that, James let his eyes fall shut and, for all intents and purposes, disappeared inside his own head.

“He—he—” Albus sputtered.

Scorpius stood, took Albus’s hand, and pulled him upright, too. He waved at James and Nora’s friends; they waved back with sympathetic smiles in place. Scorpius dragged Albus from the Room of Requirement, and as soon as they were back in the corridor, he began sputtering again.

“A baby!”

Scorpius shook his head grimly. “Their timing is awful. No wonder Nora was so upset yesterday at breakfast, knowing that she’s pregnant and James is right in the middle of all this conflict with so many people wanting the Potters dead—”

Albus turned to face him. “A _baby_!” he all but choked, interrupting Scorpius’s observation.

“Maybe. Just because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she’ll actually have a baby—”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Albus began, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “She might give birth to a cat or a dog or a—niffler!”

Scorpius could tell that Albus’s anxiety was skyrocketing. He reached over and wrapped his arms around Albus, pulling him into his embrace.

“You know what I mean,” Scorpius said quietly.

“Yeah, I know, sorry. I revert to sarcasm when I’m…upset.”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s going to _be_ okay.”

“Easy for you to say…you’re not going to be a fifteen-year-old uncle…”

“You’ll be sixteen. You’re turning sixteen on Friday. She’s got to be very early in, probably only just had the suspicion, so—”

“I was being dramatic, Scorpius.”

Scorpius leaned in and kissed Albus’s cheek. He kissed his lips a moment later. “It’ll be okay,” he repeated.

“Merlin, Mum and Dad are going to…” Albus trailed off. “I almost feel bad for them.”

“You can’t tell Ginny,” Scorpius said at once, thinking about the sadness in James’s voice as he’d said ‘ _it would disappoint me if you did that_.’ “We need to…” he didn’t want to say _mind our own business_. “We need to let them handle it.”

“Because they’re doing such a bang-up job?”

“Well…” Scorpius said. “It’s not the worst thing that could’ve happened. It’s not like they…killed somebody, or robbed Gringotts, or anything like that. And it seems like they’re…handling it.”

“Mum’s going to ‘handle it’ when she finds out,” Albus muttered. “She’s going to go spare. Serves James right.”

Scorpius thought Albus was being a bit harsh—it was obvious that neither James nor Nora had planned this, and that they’d _thought_ they were being responsible by preventing it—but he didn’t scold Albus. He knew Albus often dealt with anxiety by lashing out, and he knew him well enough by now to know that he wasn’t always angry at the person he took his anger out on.

“What did he think was going to happen?” Albus continued, only growing angrier with each step they took. “Nora’s already got a target on her head because she’s James’s girlfriend—now he’s gone and impregnated her! Does he think Avery and his friends will ignore it? That they won’t think it’s perfect leverage? Because if he thinks that he’s forgetting the fact that—”

“It’ll be okay,” Scorpius repeated, interrupting Albus’s panicked ranting.

“No, it won’t be okay! My stupid, idiot brother and his stupid, idiot girlfriend—”

“It will. It’s okay to be worried about them, you know.”

“I’m not worried. I’m angry.”

“…Right.”

They set off down the stairs in silence.

“Okay,” Albus finally said. “I’m a bit worried. I…you know…care about them.”

“I know.” 

* * *

 

In an effort to channel some of their anxiety in a more positive way than pacing and ranting, they spent the majority of the next hour on the Quidditch pitch, effectively passing a Quaffle back and forth to while away the time until James could meet them in the library. Scorpius was supposed to be practicing Keeping and Albus Chasing, but they were mostly just chatting.

“You know what I’m thankful for?” Albus asked. He threw the Quaffle forward lazily, giving Scorpius plenty of time to catch it and toss it right back to him. “I’m thankful that we’ll never have to deal with the sort of things Nora and James have to deal with.”

Scorpius grimaced. “I am, too.”

Albus threw the Quaffle again. Scorpius let it go through the right hoop so he could dive down to retrieve it. He tossed it back as he came back into his previous spot.

“Though, according to Professor Gantha, we’ll have to worry about this sort of stuff _somehow_ ,” Albus commented lightly. His tone was casual, but he was also avoiding Scorpius’s eyes. Scorpius felt his neck heat up. “I mean…she’s on track to being correct with her predictions for James…he and Nora are certainly starting early with the whole baby-making thing…and he’s on track to becoming the head of a department uncommonly early…probably record-breaking early…”

Scorpius felt a strange sort of tangle between fear and excitement. Albus continued on.

“I mean…how could that even happen? Us having a kid.”

“Oh, you know…adoption?” Scorpius reminded him. “Good old adoption…great for society, great for the forgotten children…” he realized he was quoting a Ministry avert. “Er…great for future us! We sound like great blokes! Only…”

He trailed off. Albus turned the Quaffle nervously.

“Only what?” he finally pressed.

“Only…I guess sometimes…I feel bad for my dad.”

Albus understood at once. “Because you’re the last Malfoy.”

Scorpius felt his cheeks warm. He looked down at the handle of his broom. “Yeah. And he’s never pressured me to have loads of Malfoy heirs or anything! It’s just…quite a lot of pressure. I’m all that remains of that genetic line, you know?”

“That’s one thing I apparently don’t have to worry about,” Albus muttered. “James is on his way to single-handedly reviving the Potter line. If he really has twelve Potter kids, the world would thank me for not having any more.”

“I wish I had a brother,” Scorpius grumbled.

“Well,” Albus finally said. He tossed the Quaffle back to Scorpius. “You could still give your dad a Malfoy heir. You never know what’ll happen.”

“Unless you’re a Seer,” Scorpius corrected.

Albus laughed. He met Scorpius’s eyes again. His were exceptionally warm. “Yeah, unless you’re a Seer.”

* * *

 

They used the Map to find James after their short break. He was at his usual table in the library—located in the open right as you enter, where he could be at the heart of all whispered library conversations—but for once, he wasn’t chatting with friends or classmates. He was hunched over an obscenely long length of parchment that fell off the table and actually touched the floor. Only a small portion had writing on it thus far, but he was clearly planning on filling the entire thing. Scorpius hesitated.

“He looks busy, busy, busy as a bee…” he sang nervously.

“He’s _always_ busy,” Albus pointed out. He grabbed Scorpius’s elbow. “C’mon, we only have a few hours to do this before Lily’s next ‘infiltration’.”

They walked over and sat at the table with James. James spared them a brief glance.

“Where’s Nora?” Albus demanded, his arms crossed.

James heaved a sigh, his eyes still on his parchment. “With her friends. Thankfully not here, getting unfairly interrogated by you.”

“Do they know she’s up the—”

“Albus,” James snapped. He looked back up at him. “Stop. All right?”

“…Hi, James,” Scorpius finally greeted, hoping to break the building tension.

“Hello. Let me finish this sentence and then I’ll help you both. Get your books and such out, okay?”

“Okay,” Scorpius said. “Thank you for helping us, James.”

Albus was feeling less polite. “What are you writing?” he asked.

James didn’t look up again. “My will,” he said flatly.

Albus leaned over the table and peered at the top of the parchment. James made to cover it with his arms, but Albus managed to see the first few lines.

“Your will? That says ‘Dear Dean and Seamus’ at the top.”

“Yep,” James said. Scorpius laughed nervously.

He continued writing. Albus continued craning his neck, trying to make out words around James’s guarding arms. James finally snapped. He flung his quill across the table at Albus; the ink splattered his shirt as the quill bounced off his chest and fell to the tabletop.

“My shirt!” Albus cried, outraged. “I’m telling Mum!”

“You’re being rude and nosy!” James shot back.

“Maybe I was being _concerned_ , James! Maybe I’m worried about my stupid, idiotic tosser of a brother—”

“Reading other people’s letters is not helpful!”

“Well, how else am I going to find out how my future niece or nephew is when you won’t tell me anything?” Albus spat.

James narrowed his eyes. Scorpius looked between the two brothers uncertainly, his hands pulling at his shirt nervously from beneath the table.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” James finally said.

“Do you think I’m a certifiable _moron_?” Albus exploded.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about _until_ things get less dangerous here. And until Nora has her January interview with Gringotts to sign her N.E.W.T.-conditional contract.”

Albus leaned back into his seat, his brow furrowed.

“Hang on. So are you saying she _is_ …you know?”

James pursed his lips. “She’s fine. She’s got period pains.”

“Okay, but…blink twice if she’s, you know, harboring a human parasite, and blink once if she’s not.”

“ _Until fewer people here want to kill Potters_ ,” James began, his words tense, “and until Nora signs her contract—which isn’t likely to happen if the goblins think she’s pregnant—this is all about period pains. Understand?”

“So she is.”

“Albus.”

“Did you—I think I just saw a double-blink. Scorpius, did you see a double-blink?”

Scorpius hesitated. He studied James’s dark eyes. They were beginning to water as he struggled not to blink at all.

“I really just see a lot of tears,” Scorpius admitted.

James had to blink; the accumulation of tears was clearly making it difficult to see (and the burning must’ve been intense). Albus jumped slightly.

“That was definitely two blinks,” he hissed to Scorpius. “James, what are you two going to do?”

Scorpius felt that was a rather tactless question. “What Albus means is…are you both okay? This must be really stressful. You know…period pains…stressful. Not the best time for…period pains. There are options, loads of options that I’ve got books about if you two want to…borrow them? Well…not loads, more like three, but three is better than zero or one?”

“When are you going to tell Mum and Dad? You _are_ going to tell Mum and Dad, right? Like right now? At least Mum? James. You’re going to tell Mum, right?” Albus pestered.

James drew his hands through his hair. He let out a huff. “Of course I’m going to tell Mum. And Dad.”

“When? Now? Tomorrow? When?”

“Albus!” James snapped. “Please just—stop with the questions, all right? We’ll tell them when we’re ready. It won’t be tonight. I know you’re…worried or angry or…whatever the hell it is that’s wrong with you, but this is…quite a lot for Nora and I, and we really just want some time to work it out on our own without being given the third degree, okay? Now, what’s the assignment you need help on?”

A silence settled over the table.

“But what are you going to do with it? Are you going to keep it? You know…the thing.”

“The ‘ _thing’_?! Our child, you mean?” James demanded, automatically affronted.

Albus gave James a dry look. He spoke slowly, as if he were talking to somebody especially daft. “Yes, James. Obviously that’s what I was referring to. Because that’s what happens at the end of pregnancy: an actual human baby pops right out, all screamy and wrinkly and needy. Did you expect a cat or a niffler?”

James rose from his seat. “All right, that’s it, I’ve had it with your—”

Scorpius hurriedly leaned over and smacked his hand over Albus’s mouth. Albus gave a muffled complaint into his palm.

“Sorry! He’s sorry, James, he’s not thinking, you know how he speaks without…properly thinking when he’s upset, he’s just worried about Nora for the same reasons Nora was worried about you the other morning, he doesn’t mean it, he’s being…cheeky, just being a…”

“Prat? Arse? Meddling pest?” James supplied.

“…You said it, I didn’t,” Scorpius muttered. 

“Oi!” Albus said into Scorpius’s palm. He licked it in an effort to make Scorpius lower it, but he took no offense to Albus’s tongue, so the effort was unsuccessful.

James glowered at his brother, but he at least sat back down. He leaned over the table and lowered his voice.

“I don’t need _you_ to tell _me_ that I ought to be worried about Nora,” James said to Albus, his hushed voice trembling with withheld emotion. “I didn’t do this on purpose. She didn’t do this on purpose. It was an accident, and the _last_ thing I need is anger from _you._ ”

Silence dragged on until Scorpius realized that he still had his palm over Albus’s mouth. He quickly lowered it.

“I just want to know what you’re going to do,” Albus said, his voice measured. 

“Whatever Nora wants to do. Now can we please focus on Transfiguration?”

Reluctantly, Albus allowed James to steer the conversation away from his illegitimate unborn child. They spent the next three hours working with James on the essay. By the time they’d finished, Scorpius’s spine was aching from hunching so closely to the tabletop, Albus was massaging his fingers, and James was trying to rub ink from his nose.

“You know,” Albus said, as they set off from the library. He looked up at his elder brother. “I think I may’ve just lost my place as the Potter black sheep. We’ll need to update Lily.”   

While Albus looked off into the distance, a vaguely smug look in place, James looked down at his feet with a haunted expression, surely one poorly-weighed word away from tears. It was obvious that idea hadn’t occurred to him yet.

“But I don’t want to be the black sheep,” James finally whispered. “I don’t have the stomach for seriously disappointing Mum and Dad.”

Scorpius reached over and gently patted his arm.

* * *

 

“Okay, okay—wait, wait, would you?!” Rose ordered, her words cushioned by laughter. At her side, Iset was in a fit of giggles, laughing so hard her hair had slipped from her updo and fallen into her face. Scorpius’s stomach was aching from his own unrelenting laughter. Albus was sitting across from Rose and chuckling along with her.

“Fine,” Albus finally said. He pointed at Rose and Iset sternly. “But I’ll know if you cheat; no more communicative eye contact during the game.”

“I wasn’t communicating a thing with my eyes,” Rose sniffed. “Okay. I love Neapolitan ice cream, I secretly hate the Pumpkin Pasties, and my neck is ticklish.”

“Easy!” Albus and Scorpius chorused confidently. And then, in sync:

“The first!”

“The second!”

They looked at each other. 

“No, the first one is the lie,” Albus insisted. “Gran _always_ makes strawberry ice cream for Rose on her birthday.”

“But she was dancing to the Pumpkin Pasties at the Halloween party,” Scorpius pointed out. He huffed, confused. He looked at Iset. “Iset?”

She was smiling genuinely, though it looked a bit sly. She reached up and gently poked Rose’s neck. “The _third_ ,” she said. Rose smiled back at her immediately; it made her entire face glow.

“No! No, the third isn’t a lie! Uncle Ron always used to tickle Rose until she nearly weed herself!” Albus exclaimed.

Scorpius cackled at that anecdote. Rose reached over and wrapped her arm around Iset’s shoulders. Iset let her head fall against Rose without much pause or blushing.

“Iset’s won!” Rose said happily. “Again. You boys are _rubbish_ at this game, you know that?”

“No! Rose, that isn’t a lie, you _are_ ticklish!”

“Not her neck, though,” Iset piped up. The twinkle in her eye was oddly adorable. Scorpius smiled dumbly at the happy pair until Albus nudged him.

“Your turn, Scorpius,” he said.

“Oh, erm,” Scorpius wracked his brain. He spoke on instinct. “I had an imaginary friend named Flurry, I really love the smell of lavender, and I really like when Albus and I hang out with you two and we should do it all the time.”

Albus frowned. “Scorpius, those are all true.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot the lie…” Scorpius winced.

Thankfully, Albus and their friends (friends! They had two friends!) laughed. And it wasn’t a mean laugh, either, it was the nice sort of laugh, the laugh that meant _I really like you_. His entire chest was warm.

“Can I try again?” he asked.

“Please!” Iset nodded.

“Don’t forget your lie,” Rose teased.

“Okay,” Scorpius smiled. He took a deep breath. “Apples are my favorite fruit, I’m frightened of snakes, and I’ve never been to France.”

“Last one,” Albus said at once, right as Rose declared her faith in the second being the lie.

“No! No, he’s a Slytherin! You can’t be frightened of snakes and be a Slytherin!” Rose argued.

“You can so! It’s not like we’ve got great bloody snakes slithering all over the place—”

“I don’t know what you lot get up to down there in your drafty, damp dungeon,” Rose sniffed.

“Malfoy, though,” Iset reminded Rose quietly. “French, right?”

“Well, yes, but I still don’t see how he could be frightened of snakes…” she whispered back.

“Albus is right,” Scorpius finally admitted. He wiggled his arms about with great exaggeration. “The fact that they don’t have arms seems unnatural. Snakes, I mean.”

He regretted his arm movements almost immediately, but to his surprise, everybody laughed, amused. He beamed.

“Iset’s turn,” Albus said happily. “Time to earn back my winning streak.”

“Fat chance,” Rose said confidently.

“All right, erm…” Iset squeezed her eyes shut. Her brow lowered in concentration. Rose pursed her lips and reached up slowly. With Iset’s eyes still shut, she reached up and tickled behind her ear. Iset let out an involuntary giggle and then reached for Rose’s offending hand. She held it tightly between her own. “Stop,” she complained around laughter.

“But you make it so easy,” Rose complained.

“You can’t do that if I’ve got your hands.”

“True…fair enough,” Rose allowed (a bit _too_ easily, in Scorpius’s opinion).

Iset gave her a suspicious look, but it didn’t hold much power considering she was still smiling. Rose had her own lips pursed against laughter. Iset kept her hands around Rose’s, shut her eyes again, and started over. “Okay. I used to have a horse named Vera, I—” her words trailed off as she sensed Rose leaning in close, clearly with the intention of pressing her nose to Iset’s neck, now that her hands were unavailable. “Rose!”

Rose leaned back quickly. “Yes?”

Iset nudged Rose’s thigh with her knee. They both succumbed to giggles again. Scorpius looked knowingly at Albus.

“Young love,” he said dreamily.

Albus sighed. He set his elbow on the tabletop and his chin into his hand. “It’ll be ages before we finish the game at this rate.”

As Rose and Iset giggled and flirted with each other, Scorpius felt a tap against the top of his head. He turned around, confused, to find Ben Wood grinning down at him. 

“Hi, Scorpius, Albus. Did you know you entered the Gryffindor Common Room by mistake? You might’ve noticed the lack of water outside of the windows?”

Albus stared at Ben, and then, without saying a word, he pointed at Evvie, who had been doing her best to hide behind Ben and remain unspotted. She and Albus narrowed their eyes at each other in what was decidedly a challenging way.

Ben, still grinning, said: “Fair enough. Never saw you, you never saw us. Come on, Ev.”

“I really hope the Sevens get McGonagall to agree with their ‘mixed-house Common Room’ idea,” Scorpius said. “It’s getting tiring keeping up with who we saw but didn’t see. I’m going to make a mistake one of these days.”

“Okay,” Iset finally said. “I’m ready. I had a horse named Vera, I love Charms, and I...hate the color red.”

Scorpius looked down at the tabletop as he thought hard. “The…first?”

“The last,” Albus nodded.

“Iset, those are all lies!” Rose laughed.

“Just making sure you’re still paying attention,” she said. The two were giggling again as Rose drew her just a bit closer to her side.

* * *

 

‘One more round’ turned into a massive competition between Albus and Rose, one with a Weasley intensity that drew in both Scorpius and Iset until the four lost track of time completely. Scorpius ended up drifting off against Albus’s shoulder; the next thing he knew, he was blinking awake to find Lily’s face right in front of his.

“Where were you?” she demanded.

Scorpius jumped. He lifted his head from Albus’s shoulder and blinked, trying to clear his sleepy vision.

“What?” he yawned. He was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one; across from him, Iset was fast asleep, her head cradled in Rose’s lap with Rose’s robes thrown over her like a blanket. Fitzroy the fluffy, white cat, who’d once spent his days tormenting Harry and now lived with Rose, was curled up in the space between Iset’s legs and the back of the sofa. And Albus and Rose…were still competing, though they’d moved onto another game.

“We forgot,” Albus admitted, his eyes locked on a Chess board. When had they started playing Chess? “Sorry.”

“Oh, _no_ , it’s _fine_ ,” Lily said, her voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm. She dropped down onto the sofa beside Scorpius. She smelled strongly of smoke. She kicked her shoes off as she continued on. “I was only negotiating for all of our lives. Not a big deal. Not worth coming to provide moral support or anything. Clearly, another Albus and Rose Chess match was far more important.”

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Scorpius said at once. His guilt woke him up rather quickly. He turned to look at her. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Don’t apologize,” Rose said at once. “Lily, _you_ wanted this. You wanted to be in the middle of it; _you_ wanted to be the leader and ‘fix’ everything. So don’t complain now. You got what you wanted so badly.”

Lily heaved a great sigh. “Oh, is this going to be one of those nights where you’re unnecessarily harsh with me, Rose? That’s disappointing.”

“I’m never ‘unnecessarily harsh’,” Rose scoffed. She made a move on the Chess board. “Checkmate! Ha!”

“ _Damn it_!” Albus roared.

“What happened, Lily?” Scorpius asked again, a bit impatiently.

“I’m not even sure where to start,” she admitted. She collapsed back against the cushions. “First of all, I had to spend _two hours_ listening to all of them whine. That might’ve been the worst part. Then your mate Montague got all suspicious about my intentions, so I had to spend a half hour talking horribly about our family to show him I was truly ‘anti-Potter’, which was emotionally exhausting. I ended up just repeating all the things I ever heard Dad saying about his Uncle Vernon. After that, I suggested we get to work on a plan. They showed me letters from their parents with instructions. I set them on fire, Claire’s robes accidentally got caught up in the flames, it turned into this entire stupid thing—”

“Why the hell did you burn the letters?” Albus demanded.

“I have to act like I’m really concerned about people finding out information, don’t I? I made a big fuss about how obvious they’re being; you’d be surprised how eager they were to tell me everything after I made myself the ultimate authority on the art of secret keeping.”

“So what exactly did you find out?”

“That their parents are about as lost as they are. They’re apparently having trouble recruiting a fair amount of ex-Death Eaters; many aren’t too keen on the idea of backing a young girl who they aren’t even sure is actually Voldemort’s daughter. To get them ‘inspired’ to turn back to their Death Eater ways—and, therefore, to the only current Death Eater movement—the ninnies outside of Hogwarts had this huge plan to Imperius muggles in London, force them into Diagon Alley, and then send them on a killing spree—”

“What?!” Scorpius yelped, horrified. Rose and Albus were paying close attention to her now.

“Yeah, a bit excessive, right? The point was to make the wizarding world feel ‘threatened’ by muggles again, to rouse up those old anti-muggle and anti-muggleborn feelings. Now, while they did that, the lot _here_ was supposed to start trouble in Hogsmeade—they planned the dates so it coincided with our first Hogsmeade trip this year. They were told to ‘do whatever it takes’ to ‘get the attention of the Aurors’ but also ‘remain at Hogwarts’,” Lily closed the Death Eater’s instructions in finger-quotes. She rolled her eyes. “So you can imagine what sort of stupidity those vague instructions inspired. Theva suggested poisonous gas. Avery—quite the thinker—suggested using the Cruciatus on muggleborns. They really think McGonagall will put up with a lot.”

“So what did you tell them?”

“Oh, I told them we were going to sneakily Imperius students and force them into a giant duel with one another over something trivial like Quidditch. Enough damage to public property and a few injuries and the shop owners will call at least a couple Aurors.”

Scorpius exchanged a worried look with Albus.

“But…that’s not…people will still get hurt, and that’s still using an Unforgivable,” Scorpius said.

“Yeah, which is why we’re not _really_ doing it. McGonagall’s going to demand that wands be confiscated at the checkpoint on that day—but they won’t know about it until they’re queuing up to leave Hogwarts. And, to make things even harder for their Death Eater friends outside of Hogwarts, McGonagall is changing the Hogsmeade day at the last moment. And you’ll like this, Albus! She’s changing it from the eleventh of December to the sixth of November.”

Scorpius beamed. “The day after your birthday, Al!”

Albus smiled. “It’ll be brilliant as long as there’s no Dark Magic involved...”

“There won’t be,” Lily assured Albus. “No wands. She’s going to announce the day change the night before at dinner—”

“Your birthday dinner!” Scorpius beamed, gently elbowing Albus. He was beginning to feel extremely excited for Albus’s birthday…definitely more excited than Albus himself was.

Lily continued. “She’s going to chalk it up to _The Three Broomsticks_ being closed the week of the eleventh. After she announces the change, the Mini Death Eaters are definitely going to waddle back to their rooms or the Owlery to write their family. The letters would have _just_ arrived in the early hours of the sixth informing the Big Death Eaters of the change of plans. They’ll have to either cancel their plans or quickly reorganize them with little time to spare. They’ll have been planning on more time to prepare, remember, since they thought the attack date would be over a month later. On the sixth, while we’re in Hogsmeade, nearly every possible Auror will be waiting in the Muggle areas surrounding London to catch them in the act and arrest them.” Lily yawned, turned on the couch so she was leaning back against the armrest, and then lifted her legs to set them across Scorpius's and Albus’s laps. Albus went to crossly push them off, but Lily locked her knees. Albus gave in with a glower after a few fruitless shoves. Scorpius patted Lily’s knee nicely to make up for Albus’s moodiness.

“And in the meantime,” Lily said, her hands disappearing into her hair as she began pulling it up into a ponytail. “I’m going to get these kids some consciences if it’s the last thing I do.”

Scorpius was a bit speechless. Rose looked like she might’ve regretted her earlier words.

“That sounds…incredibly exhausting,” she admitted. “How are you going to keep up with all the lies?”

“I think of most lies as really interesting stories, which helps me remember them. Other times, I just bluff my way through. It _was_ exhausting, though!” Lily agreed. She dropped her hands from her hair once it was tied up. She frowned. “I’ve never had to keep my temper in check for so long. Though I almost lost it when they said something about Dad…” she trailed off, her expression twisting. “I’d never felt so angry.”

“If this works,” Albus finally said. His voice was hesitant as if he didn’t dare let himself feel optimistic. “If everybody can pull this off the way it’s been planned…this will all be over before Christmas.”

“Oh, I _hope_ ,” Lily said wistfully. “I don’t want all of this hanging over our heads during the holidays. I need a stress-free Christmas.”

Scorpius’s thoughts flashed to James and his predicament. Albus must’ve been thinking about the same thing; he was grimacing when Scorpius looked over at him.

“Yeah…” he said. “A…stress-free and drama-free Potter Christmas…”

Scorpius doubted the Potters would _ever_ have one of those.

* * *

 

In the following days leading up to Albus’s birthday (on a Friday this year, much to Albus’s delight), everybody found themselves consumed by obsessions: Lily with her ‘Mini Death Eaters’, James and Nora with their predicament (and the resulting stress and secrecy it caused), Jacques with the upcoming match against Ravenclaw (an obsession that greatly annoyed Scorpius and Albus as Quidditch had rapidly become the last thing on their minds), Albus with Rose and Iset’s relationship (he was trying to get both of them to ask each other out to Hogsmeade on a date), and Scorpius with Albus’s birthday.

“What about…a wristwatch?” Scorpius suggested. He was in his dad’s living quarters for their weekly ‘quiet dinner’; it was the only time he got to be alone with his dad during the weeks. His dad mulled over that suggestion as he cut his lamb.

“His parents will probably get him a wristwatch for his seventeenth,” Draco finally said. “It’s Wizarding tradition. I suppose he could use it until then, though.”

Scorpius sighed. Another fruitless idea. He sadly pushed his broccoli around his plate.

“His birthday is in two days and I have no idea what to do,” he frowned. His dad had said he’d go to Hogsmeade to buy Albus’s present this week, so Scorpius could give it to him _on_ his actual birthday, but Scorpius couldn’t send him off yet because he couldn’t come up with any ideas on what to actually get Albus. His heart felt heavy with worry. He _had_ to vent it to his dad; the pain was getting so bad it gnawed at his stomach during quiet moments when he had nothing to distract himself. “Why can’t I think of anything good to get him, Dad? I spend practically every minute with him. I know him inside and out—or I thought I did, anyway. So why is it so difficult to think up a gift he’d like?”

“Because you’re over thinking it,” his dad said. “I doubt Albus has given his own birthday even a tenth of the focus you’ve already given it. Let’s just come up with something he’ll like and _that_ is good enough. It doesn’t have to be perfect and mind-blowing. You’ll have plenty of other birthdays. You’re treating this one like it’s the be-all and end-all.”

“But you never know,” Scorpius persisted. Even though the words made his heart even heavier. He felt sick to his stomach now; he inched his plate forward. “You never know, because it could be.” _Like with Mum. I didn’t know that birthday before she died was her very last one. If I’d known…_

His dad understood at once. He, too, seemed to lose his appetite. He set his fork down. A silence settled over them as Scorpius struggled to avoid thinking about his mum. He didn’t want to cry tonight. He didn’t want to ruin one of his favorite parts of the week with tears.

“A new broom?” Draco finally said, clearly trying to change the topic.

“That’s expensive.”

“I’ll give you the money.”

“The broom he’s got is rather good,” Scorpius sighed.

“But is it the _best_?”

“No…but I’d like something more…personal, you know?”

“Oh. Hmm. Yes.”

The ticking of the nearby clock became audible again. Scorpius bowed forward and buried his face in his hands. He rubbed his face as he wracked his brain for what felt like the hundredth time; it seemed the more he brainstormed, the worse his ability to come up with ideas became.

“Have you asked his mum for ideas?” Draco suggested.

“She told me to kiss him,” Scorpius mumbled into his hands. “But I…you know…already do that.” He felt his cheeks grow warm against his palms. “So that’s not _special_.”

“Of course she told you that,” Draco muttered. “His dad? Siblings?”

“His dad said to buy him a massive chocolate bar from Honeydukes—but not to tell Ginny. I don’t want to give a gift that could cause Potter family trouble. Lily said she’d give me a vial of the Felix Felicis she’s been secretly working on once it’s done…but I’ve read it can be poisonous if not done _exactly_ right, and I don’t want to tell Albus he’s got to wait for his present only to give him something that might kill him.”

Draco rubbed over his eyes wearily. “That makes… _five_ ridiculous things I’ve been told Lily Potter is up to, and that’s just this week...I should probably tell her parents. What about his brother?”

Scorpius was glad his face was still in his hands because it burned fiercely at that. “Erm…a kiss. He said a kiss, too.”

His dad’s voice was slightly amused, slightly embarrassed. “Going by your tone, I’m guessing a bit more than that.”

“…What about a book?” Scorpius squeaked, wanting the topic changed _immediately._ His dad took mercy on him.  

“Perfect for you. Not sure it’s perfect for Albus.”

“Arg,” Scorpius groaned. He lowered his face down onto the tabletop. His forehead hit with a painful _thunk_.

“Scorpius, I really think all anybody wants on their birthday is to feel cared for. Tell him you appreciate him, ask him to Hogsmeade, and buy the first thing that he shows interest in.”

Seeing as though it was nearly Friday, he didn’t have much choice.

* * *

He crossed paths with Iset on the way back to the Slytherin Dungeon. She was carrying seven books and was so deep in thought that Scorpius had to say hello three times before she realized he was talking to her. She smiled when she saw it was him…and then that smile gradually fell, as though she’d just remembered something.

“Hi,” she said, and then she quickly made to walk past him. Scorpius frowned. What had he done? Did she not like him anymore? Had he lost her as a friend? If he’d lost her, he’d probably lost Rose, too, and that very unfortunate because he liked them and they were sort of his only friends outside of Albus and…

And then he remembered who Iset probably associated him with, too. It clicked into place.

“Oh,” he said. He sped up and matched her pace easily. “Iset, I’m not going to say anything about Hogsmeade.”

Her posture softened with relief, and as it did, the top two books slid from the stack in her arms and fell to the floor with a clatter. Scorpius quickly stooped over and picked them up for her.

“Thanks,” she said, a bit flustered. “Sorry, it’s just Albus has been…”

“Mildly harassing you? He means well, he does, I promise. Here, let me take a few more,” Scorpius offered. He pulled two more books from her arms and held them to his chest.

“Thank you,” she repeated.

“That’s okay,” he reassured her. He sighed at the sight of the books. It looked like she’d begun revision for every single subject already. “I’m doomed. I haven’t started and our O.W.L.s are getting closer and closer every day.”

“I only started because Rose did,” Iset admitted. She looked up at Scorpius, a fond smile already in place. “She’s made us schedules…we do twenty minutes for each subject every day. It’s actually loads of fun. We take breaks, too. You and Albus could always join us if you like.”

Scorpius imagined Albus’s face if he suggested starting daily O.W.L. preparation. He laughed. “Albus would probably end things with me if I dared to suggest that.”

Iset laughed along with him. He was sure she was thinking about the annoyed groan Albus always gave in DADA whenever Harry was being especially demanding of his class (because both Iset and Scorpius had taken to giggling softly each time he did it).

They walked in a comfortable silence for another minute or so. Scorpius glanced down at Iset.

“Has Albus been especially annoying today?”

“Well…I don’t know if I’d use the word ‘annoying’…but he…” she trailed off. Her cheeks brightened. “He really wants me to ask Rose to Hogsmeade. Like…ask her. Like…a date.”

Scorpius nodded. “Right. But you…don’t want to do that?”

She parted her lips at once. “ _Welllll_ ,” she began, drawing the word on and on until it became a sound of indecision. “I…it’s…”

A horrible thought occurred to Scorpius: that maybe they’d misread Iset all along. “Oh. Do you not…fancy girls?”

The pink of her cheeks brightened even more. “I—I dunno, I never really gave what I liked much thought before this year, it was never really…” she trailed off, visibly struggling to find the right words.

“No, I get it. It never really mattered before this year. I’m sure you had more pressing things to think about. Me too, mostly.”

“Yes,” she agreed. They walked on in silence. As they neared Scorpius’s stop, she abruptly halted. Scorpius looked down at her, concerned. She was staring at the cover of the topmost book in her arms. “I know that I do fancy Rose. And I know that I want to go with her. But I’m not…brave enough.”

Scorpius’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help but give a little happy hop. “Yes! And of course you’re plenty brave enough! What do you mean?” 

“I can’t…I keep trying to…talk to her about it, you know, but I just…”

“It’s scary,” Scorpius agreed. “Especially when you already really care about the person as a friend, but I have significant reason to believe that she feels the same exact way, she’s just too frightened to say it, too, so all you’ve got to do is be honest with her and tell her that you fancy her and you want to go to Hogsmeade and it’ll all just fall right into place!”

In his excitement, his words came out a lot quicker than he’d intended. Iset furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” she asked.

He was still beaming. “Rose fancies you, too.”

She didn’t smile like he’d thought she would. Instead, she looked wary. “I doubt that.”

“No, really. Really, really. _Really_ ,” he stressed.

She didn’t say _why would she fancy_ me? But she didn’t have to. Scorpius could read the doubtful expression on her face.

“You look uncertain,” he said gently. “It’s not surprising that she would. She flirts with you all the time.”

“It _is_ surprising, though.”

“No, it’s not. I wouldn’t lie to you, either; I’m a rubbish liar.”

She didn’t say anything else as they resumed walking. Scorpius wondered if she was thinking about all the horrible things her parents had said to her for her entire life. He hoped not, but then again, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d think of himself if _his_ mum and dad had told him he was worthless and stupid for his entire childhood. In quiet moments, he still thought about some of the things his parents had told him in his more impressionable years, the soft, encouraging things. _“You have a beautiful heart,”_ his mother had said once. He couldn’t remember how old he was, or why she’d said it, but he never forgot it. What might he feel if those sweeter words were replaced with words like: _I wish you’d never been born. I hate you, I hate you._ It wasn’t fair the damage that parents could do to their children. It wasn’t fair that some people were born to parents who couldn’t (or wouldn’t) appreciate the great responsibility that being a parent really was.  

“Scorpius, we passed the dungeon stairs—”

“I’ll walk you to your House,” Scorpius said quickly. He swallowed roughly. Even imagining the words she must’ve heard her entire life had left him feeling tearful. He knew he couldn’t make her past any better, but he could make the present just a bit brighter. “It’s only a little farther for me. I don’t mind at all.”

“I—but—well, if you’re sure…thanks, Scorpius.”

As they drew nearer to the kitchen corridor, Scorpius spotted a figure approaching from the opposite direction. He felt automatic fear and reacted accordingly. He slowed down.

“Hang on,” he whispered to Iset, prepared to pull her to a stop if necessary, but as the person came nearer, he realized he knew who it was. He relaxed.

“Rose! Hello,” he waved.

Rose approached them, and as she did, he noticed she was out of breath and flushed. She was brimming with what could only be interpreted as determination, like she was on a very specific mission.

“Rose,” Iset smiled, clearly pleased (albeit surprised) by Rose’s sudden appearance. “Are you okay? You left for Gryffindor Tower ten minutes ago—”

“Go with me to Hogsmeade,” Rose blurted.

Iset’s lips parted in surprise. Rose took a deep breath.

“If you want, that is. I would really like to go to Hogsmeade with you,” Rose said. “Together. As a date. If that’s what you want, too.”

Rose was using up every drop of her courage. Scorpius admired her ability to meet Iset’s eyes as she waited for a response. Iset had gone very quiet.

“Me?” she finally asked.

“Yes. Yes, you, Iset,” Rose affirmed. She gave a shaky laugh, one that Iset hesitantly echoed. After another impossibly long pause, a warm smile bloomed across Iset’s features. It was a smile that absolutely lit up her eyes; Scorpius found himself grinning along with her, too.

“Oh,” Iset said. “Did…Albus wear you down?”

Rose laughed. “No! No, this has nothing to do with Albus, though I’m sure he’ll take credit for it.”

As their joined laughter pandered off, Scorpius recognized the eyes they were giving each other. He quickly set Iset’s books down near her feet.

“Bye,” he whispered. He didn’t want to break the mood. He turned and tip-toed off; he’d barely turned the corner when he heard Iset say yes. As soon as he’d made it far enough where they wouldn’t hear his footsteps, he broke off into a run.

* * *

 

He nearly body-slammed two first year Slytherins in his haste to get across the Common Room. He’d thought Albus would be waiting for him in his bed, but he spotted him near the back corner of the Common Room, sitting across from Caden Rowle, of all people. Scorpius didn’t have time to consider why Albus was willingly talking to Rowle.

“Albus! Al!” he cried. He ran full-speed and crashed down onto Albus’s lap. Albus let out a grunt of pain. His eyes widened in shock.

“Wha—?!”

Scorpius took his face into his hands. “Rose just asked Iset on a date.”

Albus’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

“Yes! Yes!”

Albus shifted beneath him; it took Scorpius a moment to realize he was trying to stand, but he was still far too weak to be able to shove Scorpius off him. Scorpius hurriedly stood.

“Bye, Caden,” Albus said.

“…Bye?” Caden shot back, confused.

Scorpius and Albus headed to their dorm.

“‘Caden’?” Scorpius demanded. “Since when do you call him _Caden_?”

“Since I realized that he might actually…not be… _too_ bad,” Albus begrudgingly admitted.

“You took my advice and actually had a conversation with him for once, I’m guessing?”

“…Scorpius, the headlining information here is that _Rose asked Iset on a date_!”

“We’ve definitely got a lot to talk about.”

* * *

 

Three minutes before midnight on Thursday, Scorpius crept across the silent dormitory. He held his breath as he slowly inched Albus’s hangings back. His heart was already swollen with affection as he observed his boyfriend for a moment. He was already asleep; they were both worn out from brutal Quidditch practice a few hours prior. But it was his birthday—almost. A day all about Albus, and Scorpius loved when things were all about Albus.

He was careful not to jostle Albus too much as he slid his way beneath the covers. Albus sighed in his sleep and rolled over, but after Scorpius froze for a few moments, he settled back down. Scorpius fit his body around Albus’s and grinned; he was rarely the big spoon, but when he got to be, it always made his night. He held tightly to Albus’s waist and nuzzled the back of his neck. With his heart full of reckless love, he pressed a kiss in that same spot, his knees tucking even closer behind Albus’s. He wasn’t trying to wake him, but when he felt Albus begin to stir, he was just glad that he wouldn’t have to miss him anymore.

“Scorp?” Albus slurred. “Y’okay?”

Scorpius squeezed him closer. “Happy birthday, Albus. Happy birthday, happy birthday, I love you. I care about you. And I love you, I love you.”

He wasn’t sure why he was repeating himself; maybe it was because he wanted to make sure Albus heard him. Maybe it was because the words still didn’t feel ‘big enough’ to encompass the way his heart was ten times bigger than it’d been a few hours prior. Maybe it was because he was a sentimental fool. Whatever the reason, he wanted to whisper those same words over and over again, all night long. He thought about his dad’s words: _‘Scorpius, I really think all anybody wants on their birthday is to feel cared for.’_

“Birthday?” Albus yawned.

“Yes. Right now. It’s your birthday right now.”

“Oh,” Albus said. To Scorpius’s delight, he shifted backwards, snuggling even closer. “Okay.”

It didn’t take long for Albus’s warmth and steady breathing to lull Scorpius to sleep.

* * *

 

In his dreams, he was in that room again, the one with hundreds of shelves full of thousands of uncorked glass bottles filled with swirling gases and churning liquids. He was so nervous that he felt moments away from vomiting. His hands were shaking as he reached out, shaking so hard that he didn’t dare grasp onto any of the bottles. They were important, desperately so; he heard the tinkling laughter of children, he saw the swell of a belly. _One, two, three, climb the dragon tree, four five six, spot the dragon quick, seven eight nine, stay forever mine—_

“AHHH! BLOODY HELL, YOU—YOU—I HATE YOU, LILY!”

Scorpius jolted awake, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He was drenched in sweat, and he was so alarmed by Albus’s scream that he let his nightmare slip away from him. James, Nora, Rose, Iset, and Lily were laughing down at them, wrapped presents in hand, and Scorpius wasn’t sure what had made Albus so angry. He looked over at him in confusion, but his question was quickly answered. It appeared that Albus had been lovingly woken up on the morning of his sixteenth birthday by a cloud of glitter and confetti. And, in fact, so had he. Scorpius propped himself up on his elbows and peered down at his now-shimmering pajamas. For a moment, his sleepy mind was entranced by the shifting, multi-colored glimmer the glitter was emitting as the light hit it.

“ _Why_?!” Albus demanded. He coughed into his hand, made an almost growl-like sound, and then showed Scorpius his palm. Glitter.

Lily threw herself down onto the bed. Albus kicked lightly at her, annoyed. She ignored him and wedged her way between their calves. “You two look cozy. Birthday snuggles. That’s nice. Gross, but nice.”

Albus didn’t smile. “Why did you throw glitter and confetti on me at six in the morning before I’ve even had breakfast?”

“Because it’s your _birthday_ , lighten up,” James said. He collapsed down onto the bed beside Lily. “Happy birthday, Al.”

He pushed his wrapped present forward. Nora squeezed in beside him and leaned forward, pulling Albus up into a friendly (and glittery) hug.

“I bet Lily got this glitter from you, didn’t she?” Albus muttered.

Nora laughed. “I’ll never tell.”

Albus patted her back a few times. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, probably in the hopes that only Nora, Scorpius, and James would hear it.

Nora tightened their hug for a brief moment. As she pulled back, she offered him a genuine smile. “Yeah. You’re sweet, Al.”

Albus studied her eyes. “Are you _r_ _eally_ okay or are you just saying that?”

“Really okay. I promise.”  

Lily was watching them with a shrewd expression.

“Why’d you ask Nora if she was all right?” she asked loudly.

_Damn_. The swear was surely flowing through all of their minds.

“Because she’s had to spend her morning with you,” Albus shot back. He reached for Lily’s gift. “Whatever’s in here won’t bite me, will it?”

Lily huffed. “That was five years ago, Al, move on.”

“So that’s a no?”

“Now I’m kind of wishing I had given you something that would bite…maybe one of Hagrid’s blast-ended skrewts…”

“My sweet little sister,” Albus muttered sarcastically. He set the gift paper to the side and pried the top of the box off. “Always so tenderhearted—what is this?”

Albus lifted a tiny glass vial. It was made of purple glass and held some sort of thick, dark liquid.

“A potion,” Lily said innocently.

“…Er…right. Okay. Thanks…” Albus set it carefully to the side, eying it warily like it might explode at any moment. “What exactly does it do?”

“It makes you enchanting. Remember when I messed up my eye-sight potion? And it made my hair really shimmery and hypnotic?”

“Yes,” Albus said.

“Well, I took a break from my eye-sight potion and turned that mistake into an entirely different product.”

Albus stared. “So you’ve given me a reverse love potion. I take it and everybody who sees me immediately fancies me?”

“No,” Lily scoffed. “I’ve given you a potion to make you _enchanting_. Not a sex object.”

“…Thanks, Lulu. It’s…thoughtful,” Albus said. He shot a quick, confused look Scorpius’s way once Lily wasn’t looking. Scorpius shrugged. He thought Albus could be plenty enchanting all on his own.

* * *

 

Scorpius tried to enjoy the day, but with every gift Albus received, his anxiety at his own lack of gifts increased.

Albus got a pamphlet for an interesting Muggle device from James and Nora (one that he’d be given over the holidays, as electronics tended to go haywire inside Hogwarts). Rose gave Albus new socks, Iset gave him a tin of biscuits, his grandparents gave him a giant hamper full of homemade sweets (Ginny cringed a bit when handing it over), and his parents gave him a strange instrument Scorpius had never seen before; it was a black, slightly-squishy sphere about the size of their Pygmy Puffs. According to Harry and Ginny, it could ‘hold’ up to five memories (though you had to be careful about which you chose; once a memory was added, it couldn’t be erased). A ‘mini, portable, touch-activated Pensieve’ is how Harry had chosen to describe it, though Scorpius thought it was a bit more convenient than a typical Pensieve in some ways.

They had a birthday dinner in the Potters’ cramped living space, and after that, Scorpius found himself overcome with guilt. He was quiet on their walk back to the dorms, his heart pounding in his chest. Would Albus expect him to have a wrapped gift ready once they entered their dorm? What would he tell him? Would Albus think he didn’t care about him?

“This might be the most stressful gift anybody has ever given me,” Albus admitted, his eyes on the Pensieve-like ball. “I’ll probably never use it because I’ll be too worried about wasting one of the five memories.”

“It’s really cool, though,” Scorpius said. He swallowed hard. “It was a nice gift.”

“Yeah, one of their better ones,” Albus agreed. “But do you know what would be even better?”

“A new broom?” Scorpius fretted. _I knew I should’ve listened to Dad._

“What? No, I don’t need a new broom. What I _do_ need is time alone with you. The party was…nice, but just…being with you is nicer.”

Scorpius felt his heart soar. “Cuddle time. You want more cuddling?”

“I just want to be with you,” Albus admitted. Scorpius felt a bit giddy at that. He thought about Ginny’s gift advice. _James’s_ gift advice. Maybe they’d been right all along; maybe all Albus really _did_ want was Scorpius himself.

“I’ve been panicking all week about what to get you,” Scorpius admitted. “I don’t have anything. I mean, I _am_ going to get you something! Tomorrow, in Hogsmeade. But I couldn’t—”

Albus tugged on Scorpius’s hand and pulled him to a stop. He leaned in and kissed him.

“I really don’t want anything. I really do just want to be with you. Maybe that’s soppy…I don’t care. That’s the best thing to me.”

Scorpius beamed. “Well, I can give you that. That’s a gift I can absolutely give you.”

“Brilliant,” Albus smiled.

* * *

 

He followed through on his word. He and Albus spent hours inside the drawn hangings of Scorpius’s bed, alternatively between cuddling, reading, chatting, snogging, and doing various other things that required the occasional _Muffliato_. The main thing was that they were together, and that was what Scorpius liked best.

“You win ‘best gift’,” Albus admitted.

“Oh, don’t tell your parents that; that’d probably feel like a slap in the face after the rare gift they came up with,” Scorpius said. Albus laughed softly. He reached up to push Scorpius’s tangled hair back from his forehead. His hand lowered afterwards; Scorpius’s felt his skin tingle as Albus lightly ran his thumb over Scorpius’s bottom lip.

“Objects can’t really compete with _this_ ,” he admitted.

Scorpius could only hope that he was making Albus feel as cherished as Albus made _him_ feel. Judging by the easy, confident joy Albus was emitting, he was at least somewhat successful in that mission. And things might not have been all right in the grand scheme of things; there were still Death Eaters organizing themselves around Delphi. There were still kids at the school who would’ve preferred them dead. They were only a week separated from Halloran’s trial. But tonight, Scorpius would get to fall asleep feeling warm and loved, listening to the strange beating of Albus’s heart. Tomorrow, he and Albus would go to Hogsmeade together for the first time, accompanied by _friends_. The future would march on, and with it would come difficult times—there was no avoiding that. But there were good things, too, things that Scorpius knew he could always count on, like Albus’s dry sense of humor, his dad’s steady support, the Potters’ never-ending albeit eccentric love.

Next week might bring unimaginable pain, but the present brought unimaginable comfort, and tonight, on his boyfriend’s birthday, wrapped up in a moment so toe-curling that Scorpius really thought they ought to have made use of Albus’s Pensieve-orb, Scorpius was content with that.


	13. Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily strengthens her group. Harry and Ginny find out some startling news. Albus faces down old demons while Lily has to reevaluate what 'power' really means. The importance and strength of familial bonds are tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, commenting, and/or leaving kudos! Sorry the wait for this final chapter was so long-- I hope everybody has a great holiday season! An epilogue follows directly after this chapter. I'll be posting the sequel sometime soon for those who are interested. Thanks again!

Harry was exceptionally drowsy that morning. It took him nearly a half hour to force himself out of bed, and even then, he spent the first hour sitting bundled on the couch, his mug of tea growing cold in his hand. Ginny was equally exhausted; her warm, sleepy body leaning into his wasn’t doing much to motivate him to rise fully for the day. Considering the fact that they’d been at Azkaban until nearly three in the morning (along with Hermione, the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Ron), Harry really could’ve used a lie in.

“We should get dressed,” Ginny mumbled, her face still pressed into his pajama top. “Kids will start queuing up to leave for Hogsmeade in an hour. I’m sure Lily’s been scheming all night.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Harry groaned. His heart squeezed with anxiety. The fact that none of the Hogwarts kids would have wands didn’t reassure him very much. He was excessively worried that one of the ‘Mini Death Eaters’ (as Lily had dubbed them) would realize Lily was manipulating them and alert their parents. They had switched the date for the Hogsmeade trip so quickly that the ex-Death Eaters wouldn’t have much hope of organizing much in the way of an attack (either in Muggle London, Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade), but that wouldn’t stop a few of them from apparating there if they really wanted to. “She’s not going to be happy about it, but I’m going to be in Hogsmeade the entire day.”

“As am I,” Ginny agreed. Harry wasn’t surprised.

“More spying on James?”

“Absolutely,” Ginny affirmed. “And Draco is going, too, so he can watch over Albus and Scorpius while we watch over James and Lily. All accounted for.”

Harry felt the squeezing pressure on his heart ease up slightly. “Good.”

“Did you get a chance to ask Louis and Roxanne about…?”

“I did, sorry, meant to tell you last night,” Harry grimaced.

“Well, we were busy last night, weren’t we?” Ginny reminded him. He felt her hand brush through his tangled hair. “You especially. And when you want to talk about it…I’m here.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “I wish there was something _to_ talk about. I didn’t find out anything new, really, and that’s the most frustrating part. _Four hours_ I spent in the room with Delphi, and all I got out of her was a story about ducks from her childhood, inquiries about Scorpius Malfoy, and more requests to speak with Albus.”

The drafty air sent a chill down Harry’s spine as Ginny sat up, pulling her warm body (and their blanket) from Harry. He opened his eyes and examined her tense expression.

“No,” she said, as he’d known she would. “Absolutely not. Over my dead body. I won’t have her playing mind games with Albus again—I don’t want him to even have to _see_ her again.”

“I know, I know,” Harry reassured her. “I told her as much. It’s okay.”

“It’s one thing, what Lily’s doing…she’s taken to it like a fish takes to water—it’s a bit unsettling, really—but Albus? No. He doesn’t want to see her again, he’s already been through so much this year, it wouldn’t be right and—”

“Gin, I know,” Harry repeated gently. He reached up and took her face into his hands. She avoided his eyes. “I told Delphi it wasn’t happening. Period.”

She relaxed. “And we’re not telling Al that she wants to speak with him, right?”

“Definitely not. Unfortunately, all of our kids have a tendency towards…self-sacrifice.” Harry paused. Lily wasn’t really sacrificing herself so much as flourishing. “Or they at least want to be in the middle of things, anyway, despite how dangerous they are.”

He lowered his hands and pulled Ginny back against his side. She settled the blanket back over him.

“So? Louis and Roxanne?” Ginny pressed.

“Oh, right,” Harry said. He yawned and let the back of his head fall against the sofa cushions. “Roxanne lied and said that nothing was going on with James. Louis lied a bit better and said that ‘ _to his knowledge’_ there was nothing going on that we needed to ‘ _presently concern ourselves with’_.”

“‘Presently’,” Ginny quoted. She mulled over that. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I still think somebody’s threatened him. I even talked to Rowle yesterday, to see if he knew of anybody in their ‘group’ threatening James, but he swore he hadn’t heard anybody talking about doing that or planning to do that.”

Ginny hid her face back into Harry’s top. Her words were muffled. “I really thought that after the Cruciatus thing that he’d come to us if somebody threatened him again. We had that talk with him after he hid the fact that he was tortured, Hermione had a talk with him…it seemed like he regretted lying to us. So why would he do it now? I’m worried.”

“Me too,” Harry admitted. “But I’m starting to wonder if it was somebody else’s life that was threatened. Maybe they threatened Nora. I think he would absolutely lie through his teeth—even to us—if he thought there was a risk of Nora being hurt.”

“It definitely has something to do with her,” Ginny agreed. “But those two are so inseparable that anything that has to do with either of them has to do with both of them, so I don’t even know where to begin. She’s obviously really upset, though, and he clearly is, too. What happened the other day…when everybody was here and she ran off to the loo during tea…being so upset or frightened that you get physically sick is…” Ginny trailed off. Harry tightened his arms around her. “Bad. It’s bad.”

“Maybe she was just genuinely ill?” Harry suggested. She had certainly _looked_ ill…and he was fairly certain that she _had_ vomited.  “A virus or something.”

“No, she’s been looking upset and worried. Though…I suppose that…unless…no, they aren’t _that_ stupid…they were both taught better…”

Harry never got the chance to examine her new train of thought. The main door clicked open, drawing their immediate attention. Harry expected Lily but was greeted by James. His robes were a bit ruffled like he’d dressed in the dark, and the circles beneath his eyes were concerning.

“Jamie,” Ginny said, surprised. She straightened. “It’s early. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” James said quickly. “Yes. I was just...hi.”

“You were just ‘hi’?” Harry repeated, baffled. He watched as James crossed over to them and sank down onto the sofa beside Ginny. He reached out and pulled his mum into a tight hug, one that was definitely brimming with worry. He was searching for comfort and yet he wouldn’t let them truly comfort him (because he wouldn’t tell them the truth). It was beyond frustrating.

Ginny rubbed James’s back. Harry was sure she was frowning into his shoulder. Harry studied James’s eyes—still wide and a bit haunted, even though his chin was pressed against Ginny’s shoulder—and he realized at once what had happened.

“You had a nightmare,” he said.

“N-no,” James lied at once, his voice soft with embarrassed defensiveness. “I’m seventeen.”

“You can still have nightmares when you’re seventeen. I have nightmares all the time,” Harry said, “and I’m…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing.

“Forty-two,” supplied Ginny.

Harry nodded Ginny’s way. “Right. I’m forty-two. And I still have nightmares.”

James looked at him, his brown eyes churning with uneasiness. “Really?”

“Really. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” James said quickly. He straightened, pulling back from his hug with his mum. “No, I don’t.”

“James,” Ginny began, and even after James gave an annoyed sigh, clearly aware of what was about to happen, she plowed forward. “I don’t know what’s happened—if somebody’s threatened you, or threatened Nora, or what—but I do know that something _has happened_ , I know that something isn’t right with you, and you need to tell us what it is. We’re your parents, James. It’s our job to take care of you, to keep you safe. We can’t protect you if you won’t let us. And that’s what parents do.”

James looked even more upset after Ginny’s speech. His shoulders visibly sagged, like a weight had just settled down upon them.

“I know that, Mum,” he finally said, his voice a bit nasally from the presumed build-up of oncoming tears. “That’s exactly why I can’t tell you.”

Ginny frowned. She looked around at Harry. He frowned back, confused.

“You can’t tell us because we…care about you?” Harry asked.

“No, that’s not what I—I just don’t want to talk about it right now, Dad. I don’t.”

“James—”

“Sometimes you don’t want to talk about things, either,” James persisted. And he had a point. In fact, Harry had probably felt that way initially following nearly every horrible or stressful thing that’d ever happened to him. But had his silence ever really helped in the long run?

“But why don’t you want to talk to us?” Ginny pressed, after a heavy silence. “Why wouldn’t you want to talk to _me_ , Jamie?”

“I do, but not right now, right now I just want to pretend that there’s nothing to worry about. I feel…frightened, and I just wanted to come home and feel better, just for a little while. So can you two go back to making sarcastic comments and harassing me about N.E.W.Ts? We can gossip about Albus if you like, Lily told me she walked in on something interesting. We can gossip about Lily! She’s a mess, right? She’s always up to something worth talking about.” James’s stomach gave a loud rumble, one so audible that it couldn’t be ignored. He grimaced. “My stomach doesn’t understand that it’s earlier than normal and that the Great Hall won’t be serving breakfast yet.”

Harry stood immediately. He still hadn’t shaken this particular paternal instinct; whenever his kids were hungry, he had the compulsion to make them food at once, no matter how old they’d gotten, no matter what time it was. Cooking for his family had always been an act of love and duty. It was one of the most solid ways to say _I love you_ , one of the most important ways to take care of his family. It was one thing to feed your children just enough to meet their basic requirements out of a begrudging obligation—the Dursleys had done that for Harry. It was something else entirely to take the time to make a _good_ meal for your children—like Molly Weasley had always done. Harry had decided not long after James’s birth that he wanted to be the sort of parent who cooked delicious, thoughtful meals; not the kind who pushed a quarter of a grapefruit in front of a hungry boy (or worse—let him go hungry).

“I can make something. What would you like? Omelets? Eggy bread? Bacon?” Harry offered. He crossed over to the tiny kitchen area while James mulled. He guessed the answer right before James gave it. “Eggy bread, right?”

“Right,” James said. He’d stopped after that short affirmation, but something in his tone told Harry he wasn’t really done speaking. Harry gathered ingredients as he waited for James to get out the words he was struggling with. Finally, James said: “Dad, can you teach me?”

Harry turned around to look at his son, surprised. “Teach you? To make breakfast?”

“Yeah,” James admitted sheepishly. He rose from the sofa. “You know…how to cook basic stuff.”

Harry blinked. “But you decided cooking wasn’t ‘for you’ after that incident with the cleaver.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit older now, and I’ve changed my mind,” James said. He stood beside Harry. “Please. I really want to learn.”

Harry nodded. “Of course.” He allowed himself to smile (even though this only added to his suspicions). He still loved any time his kids showed an interest in spending time with him. “We’ll make a little of whatever we have the ingredients for and go over the basics. We’ve got some time.”

James smiled his first true smile since he’d entered. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

* * *

 

Lily and her crew of Mini Death Eaters were not happy about the wand confiscations. Harry hung near the back of the queue with Ginny and watched as Lily made a huge fuss for the sake of keeping face. Thankfully, it was Neville taking wands up, and Lily had already explained to him ahead of time what was really going on.

“He’s handling that well,” Ginny commented.

Harry looked away from Neville, who was calmly talking Lily and Zabini down.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “He’s become really confident. Sometimes I hardly recognize him.”

Ginny didn’t respond for a beat. When Harry glanced down at her, she was looking up at him with a mildly confused expression.

“What?” she asked.

Harry frowned. He pointed at Neville. “What do you mean ‘what’? We were talking about Neville.”

“Oh,” she said. She pointed. Harry followed her diverting gaze. “I was talking about Scorpius.”

Scorpius was standing patiently at Albus’s side as Lumie Kolin giggled her way through a conversation with Albus. Beyond his stiff shoulders, there was no indication that it bothered him. Harry had to give him credit where credit was due; had that been him, he would’ve already pulled _his_ significant other away by the elbow with a weak excuse veiling his jealousy.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “He is. Handling that well, I mean.”

“Yes. Take notes,” Ginny said, and with that, she began pushing her way to the front of the queue. “Lily Luna Potter! Is that you making all this fuss? How dare you speak to Neville that way, what are you doing with…well, why aren’t you with Aster and Emi?”

While Ginny pretended to reprimand Lily for her pretend tantrum and pretended to be baffled by Lily’s unorthodox choice in company, Harry casually squinted over the heads of the students in front of him. He was hoping that onlookers would think he was merely looking off into the distance as he thought, when in actuality, he was peering towards his eldest child from the sides of his vision. Nothing appeared too different right now; James was holding Nora’s hand and the two were laughing with their friends. Harry hoped Ginny would be able to keep a close eye on him during their Hogsmeade visit.

* * *

 

Lily led her disgruntled crew into the Three Broomsticks. Harry waited for three more people to enter before he ducked inside after them.

He was hit with a sickening wave of hot air. Thanks to the dozens upon dozens of students crammed into the pub’s interior, there was hardly any space to breathe, much less move around. Harry could only take a few steps away from the door before he was blocked by a wall of students. The change in temperature from the street had made his glasses actually fog up. He pulled them off, wiped the lenses impatiently, and then shoved them back in place. He scanned the nearest tables and pushed his way towards the first one he saw with people that he knew.

“Hi,” he greeted, and without pausing, he sat down at the table. His nephew smiled up at him warmly.

“Uncle Harry! Hello!” he pushed a butterbeer across the table. “Want a butterbeer?”

Harry took the offered drink distractedly, his eyes darting from face to face as he searched for Lily. He leaned over slightly and peeked through the gaps in the wall of people standing in a queue nearby Hugo’s table.

“She’s over there,” he heard Aster say.

He turned around and looked at his daughter’s best friend. She was in the process of taking a drink of her butterbeer, but she pointed in the opposite direction that Harry had been looking. He swiveled in his seat and followed her hand. Relief flooded his chest at the sight of his youngest child. She was sitting in the middle of a huddle of Death Eater kids, calmly sipping her newly acquired butterbeer as the group conversed. She briefly locked eyes with him—long enough to give him a reassuring, fleeting smile—and then she focused back on her new ‘friends’. Harry let out a heavy exhalation. He relaxed back against his seat, lifted his butterbeer, and turned his focus to Hugo and Aster as he took a sip.

“Are you two…?” he trailed off curiously, not wanting to embarrass them. They _were_ sitting alone together, though.  

Hugo and Aster fell into synchronized giggling. 

“No!” Aster said. “We’re just here to keep Lily in line.”

“Oh,” Harry nodded. “Yeah, me too. Cheers.”

Aster leaned in and cheerfully knocked her bottle against Harry’s. Hugo withdrew an obscenely large bag of crisps from his school bag.

“We brought snacks for the show,” he informed Harry.

Chuckling fondly, Harry relaxed fully and took a handful of the offered snack.

* * *

 

It didn’t turn out to be much of a show. Lily and her group spent _two hours_ having what appeared to be a normal conversation. Harry, Hugo, and Aster went through the entire bag of crisps, Harry ordered the table two more rounds of butterbeer, and then he found himself getting impatient.

“What’s she doing?” he finally demanded.

“Flirting with Caden,” Aster said, matter-of-factly. She and Hugo had started a table game with the butterbeer caps and appeared entirely at ease with how long this was taking. Harry figured being Lily’s closest friends definitely required a strong degree of patience.

Harry grimaced. “Yes, I gathered that much. Unfortunately.”

“I like him,” Hugo said, as if that settled the matter entirely. He flipped a bottle cap to Aster and cheered (Harry guessed that meant he won a point, though he was still generously fuzzy on the rules of the game). After he’d hung the cap from Aster’s nose, he looked back at Harry. “He’s always been nice to us.”

Harry had to admit that Caden was slowly _(very, very slowly)_ growing on him, but seeing him with his arm around Lily’s shoulder and his lips pressed to her cheek made him rethink those budding feelings of acceptance rather quickly. He glowered darkly at the two third years.  

“She’s supposed to be…I dunno, getting information, but instead it just seems like she’s…actually having fun spending time with them,” Harry grumbled.

“I think she _is_ having fun,” Aster said. “Definitely. Lily doesn’t usually do things if they aren’t fun.”

Aster had a good point, but it seemed like the current fun was coming from the Death Eater kids’ actual company more than the mission at hand. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

* * *

 

He met up with Ginny outside of Honeydukes, but it was clear that she was in the middle of her own sort of mission. She greeted him with a kiss upon arriving, but spent the next minute or so staring hard at the shoes of every passerby. Harry found himself automatically doing the same, hoping it’d provide some answers, but all he saw were quite a lot of muddy and scuffed shoes.

“Er…what are you doing?” he finally asked.

“James and Nora put the Cloak on,” she answered. “But they’re too tall for it now so I can usually see their feet…the only problem is, it’s so damn crowded…”

“Ah,” Harry said. He quietly indulged her for another minute, and then he realized how idiotic they probably looked, standing still nearly in the doorway of Honeydukes, staring intently at the students’ feet. He caught a few looking down self-consciously in response to their gazes. He reached down and took Ginny’s hand.

“C’mon, let’s go sit and have a drink,” he urged. “There’s something I want to show you in the Three Broomsticks regarding our daughter. James will show up again. It’s okay.”

She didn’t move even as he tugged on her hand.

“No, it’s not okay; they could be in trouble,” she persisted. “I need to stay _here_.”

She gestured at the entrance of Honeydukes.

“Why _here_?” Harry asked, mimicking her insistent, stubborn tone.

“Because if something really _is_ wrong, this is one of the first places James will go, and I intend to catch him before he decides to cope with sugar instead of allowing me to help him,” she said. And with that, she took a few steps back so she could lean against the outer wall of Honeydukes. Harry realized from the serious purse of her brow that she was not going anywhere no matter what he said, so he backed up and leaned back against the wall, too.

“You’re really taking this personally, aren’t you?” Harry realized.

He was able to verbalize the thought before he’d even thought much about it, but as soon as he said it, he realized he was spot on. Her tenseness and stubbornness weren’t solely from worry; they were from insult.

“No,” she lied, squinting hard in the opposite direction from Harry’s probing gaze.

“You are! You’re insulted that he didn’t run to Mummy straight away!”

“I haven’t taken anything _personally_ , I only—”

“Oh _Merlin_ ,” Harry realized. He was torn between mirth and disbelief. “You’re afraid he’s outgrowing his ‘Mum’s boy’ title. You’re afraid you’re going to lose him. He actually _is_ your favorite kid!”

Ginny was up on her tiptoes in a second’s time. Harry had no chance to defend himself before her hand slapped over his mouth, stifling his words.

“Shut your—cake-hole!” she growled.

“My…cake-hole?” Harry challenged, his words muffled into her palm. She ignored him.

“They are all my favorites in different ways. Got that?”

“….Sure, yep.”

She lowered her hand and fixed him with a vexed expression. “What if Lily or Albus had heard you saying that?”

“They wouldn’t have! It wasn’t like I _shouted_ it…”

“And anyway,” Ginny continued. She shook her hair out so it fell behind her shoulders. She resumed scanning the hemlines of all the passing students. “Don’t act like _you_ don’t feel personally wounded every time Lulu chooses her friends over you—”

“I do _not_ feel—”

“I’m just worried about our son,” she pressed on, speaking right over Harry’s objections. “And, yes, I am upset that he won’t talk to me about it, but that’s because it means it’s something extremely serious.”

She really _was_ incredibly wounded by this. Her feelings were genuinely hurt. Harry’s teasing words crumbled in his mouth as he realized the depth of it.

“…Okay,” he allowed. “Sorry.”

“I’m not taking this personally,” she sniffed.

“Right. You’re not. Dunno why I ever thought that you were.”

Harry stared unseeingly at the ground for the next few moments, unwilling to break their silence. He felt Ginny lean against him a minute afterwards. She broke, as he knew she would. 

“Why won’t he talk to me?” she asked, her voice bruised. “Do you think he…stopped trusting me? Stopped….caring about my opinions? He’s always wanted my opinion on everything.”

Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. He tucked her snugly to him, his arm holding her in place. He rubbed her upper arm as he leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

“I dunno, Gin,” Harry admitted. “But I know he loves you. And I know that’ll never change. I’d bet my life on that in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, well, what’s love if you don’t have trust—” she straightened abruptly, pulling away from Harry’s embrace, her eyes locking on something. “There. I just…there.”

And without another word, she began pushing through the crowd, her eyes pinned down near the ground as she followed James and Nora’s disembodied feet. Harry sighed.

“If you’re worried about him not trusting you anymore, perhaps stalking him isn’t—and…you’re gone. Brilliant. Stalking our firstborn. This is some wonderful parenting we’re doing.”

* * *

 

Harry followed Ginny into St. John’s Fort (an apothecary tucked between the Magic Neep (a greengrocers) and Magical Morganite (a jewelry shop) and marveled at just how quickly she could walk. Her legs were much shorter than Harry’s, and yet he had a stitch in his side from trying to match her pace as she weaved through the crowds after their son. And as he followed her into the apothecary, he was certain she’d lost their son somewhere along the way.

“Why would they be in here?” Harry demanded. He closed the door behind him and was instantly accosted by an extremely offensive scent. He gagged and felt his stomach churn. It was the most cloying, overbearing scent he’d ever had the misfortune of smelling. Ginny lifted the collar of her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose but didn’t let the smell distract her. She eyed the rickety wooden shelves (stacked high with herbs, tinctures, oils, and powders), the candles flickering low in puddles of wax, the woman behind the till, the—

“Where is he?” she demanded. She’d spotted Louis and Roxanne right as Harry did. They were standing side by side against a far wall, blocking a door. Louis jumped at the sight of them. Roxanne sighed as Ginny made her way towards them, stern words visibly climbing up Ginny’s throat, but she never made it to their niece and nephew. Her path was blocked by Ben.

“Ginny!” he cried cheerfully. “What brings you here?”

Ginny stepped to the right. Ben stepped to the left and blocked her. She glowered.

“Ben,” she warned.

“Do you need something? What are you looking for? I can help! I know this shop inside and out; I’m practically in the family now, really.”

“ _Ben_ ,” an exasperated voice called. Harry turned. Evvie Wilson was sitting behind the till beside the woman who owned the shop (Gemma Farley, if Harry was remembering correctly. She’d been a Slytherin Prefect his first year at Hogwarts). Harry had initially thought it was impossible that James and Nora had come here, but the people within the shop told him that Ginny had been right after all. There was no way Louis, Roxanne, Evvie, _and_ Ben were in here behaving so oddly by coincidence.

“Where’s James? In there?” Ginny nodded her head towards the door Louis and Roxanne had planted themselves in front of.

“No,” Roxanne lied.

Harry saw Ginny’s hand push automatically into her wand pocket. He cleared his throat and quickly walked up to stand beside her. He pinned his eyes on their nephew.

“Louis, what’s going on?” he asked.

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know, Uncle Harry. We’re just in here to keep Evvie company. She told her aunt she’d help her out today. You and Aunt Ginny are the ones who stormed in here like something was ‘going on’.”

Ginny crossed her arms. “Then why are you and Roxanne blocking the door?”

“What door?” Ben asked. “Evvie, is there a door there?”

“No. No door.”

“I very clearly see a damn door! I’m looking _right_ at it!” Ginny exclaimed.

Ben shook his head sadly. “Sorry. You heard her. No door.”

“Unbelievable. You lot are—unbelievable!” Ginny raged. She pointed at Louis and then turned, so her accusing finger was aimed at each seventh year for at least a couple seconds. “All of you are responsible for whatever happens because you’ve made yourselves accomplices!” A pause. “And it smells like manure in here!”

“That’s valerian,” the woman behind the till supplied. “It’s our herb of the day.”

“That’s _vile,_ is what it is,” Ginny grumbled. She turned around so her back was to Louis and Roxanne. “Fine. C’mon, Harry. Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks, like you said.”

Harry furrowed his brow. What? She was giving up that easily?

“Okay…” he said, a bit suspicious. He followed slowly after his wife, shot a quick wave over his shoulder at the seventh years, and then opened the door. Ginny had taken one step out of the shop when she suddenly turned and—with skills honed from years of Quidditch—sprinted straight at the door, her eyes locked on the doorknob like it was a Quaffle. She’d changed paths so abruptly that Louis and Roxanne were slow to react. There were intermingled shouts, alarmed cries, and ample confusion as Roxanne and Louis tried to pull Ginny from the door. Nobody seemed willing to hex each other. After a brief moment of half-hearted struggling, Louis and Roxanne let up. Ginny pushed the door open at once.

“James Sirius Potter, I have _had it_ with—…” Her words died off.  “Victoire? What are you…?”

Harry furrowed his brow. What was Victoire doing here?

“Oh…” Ginny said. “Oh, bloody—oh.”

There was a long, heavy pause. The entire shop seemed to be holding its breath. Harry slowly made his way towards the door, his heart picking up its pace in apprehension. What was going on? Was James ill? Had something happened? Was he in danger? Had somebody cursed him?

The horror in Ginny’s tone had made Harry certain that he was about to see something life-changing. But when he peeked into the room, all he saw was James and Nora sitting side by side on an antique sofa, with Victoire sitting across from them. James’s eyes were wide. His hand had pressed over his mouth, presumably to try and keep himself from doing one of his longest-running habits (blurting out whatever was wrong to his mum immediately on sight). Nora had shrunk back against the sofa cushions, her hands disappearing into the long sleeves of the jumper she’d borrowed from James. Harry was lost.

“Er…?” he hissed to Ginny.

But she didn’t seem to hear him or even realize that he was there. She was staring at James and Nora. Harry followed her gaze _again_ , but the only thing he noticed now that he hadn’t before was a tiny glass jar sitting on a spindly side table beside Nora. His eyes had skimmed over it the first time because the substance inside was clear like water, but upon further inspection, he realized it was quite a lot thicker than water. And as he edged forward, he realized that he recognized the substance. It was smoking – and not in a normal way. It was giving off clouds of shimmering, pastel sparks that rose a few centimeters into the air and then completely vanished…and he had seen this before…three times, in fact…he’d watched the clear potion begin sparking after Ginny took a sip of it…three times…three...times…

“Merlin,” he heard himself breathe. His legs felt like putty, but his head felt exceptionally heavy. “Merlin.”

“…Hi, Aunt Ginny, Uncle Harry,” Victoire finally said.

James lost his battle with his mouth. His hand dropped.

“We accidentally made a baby,” he blurted, and then he immediately slapped his hand back over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact. Nora bit her lip and looked down at her lap. Harry reached out and grasped onto the doorframe for support. He thought he might faint.

“A _what_?” Ginny drew out, her tone a bit menacing.

“A…baby…?” James whispered.

“Accidentally!” Nora tacked on.

“You….accidentally…had sex?”

“Well…no, Mum, _that part_ wasn’t the accident…” James said. He covered his face with his hands, as if his mum’s disappointment or anger didn’t exist if he couldn’t see it. “We meant to do that part.”

“So what part, _exactly,_ was the accident?!”

“The, erm…part where…are you going to make me say this? Really?”

“The unprotected part was the accident,” Nora interjected.

Harry’s head was spinning. When he looked over at Ginny, the image of her incredulous expression was a bit unfocused.

“I don’t even know what to say!” Ginny cried. “And that’s…rare!”

Victoire intervened. Harry was still utterly speechless.

“Aunt Ginny…why don’t you and Uncle Harry meet up with them afterwards? I need to finish Nora’s exam, and I think it’d do everybody some good to have a bit of time to….think on this.”

For a moment, nobody said anything.

“Fine. I need a drink anyway,” Ginny muttered, and with that, she turned and stormed from the room.

James swallowed roughly. His eyes grew alarmingly glassy.

“She means…we’ll meet you both in the Three Broomsticks,” Harry said.

* * *

 

He and Ginny sat side-by-side in the Three Broomsticks.

It was as crowded as it’d been earlier, but Harry hardly heard the commotion now. It was all a faint, background buzz. He stared at the table as his mind whirled with so many thoughts that he had yet to catch one. Ginny was staring across the room at their daughter.

“I’d say it surprises me to find out that Lily spent her pocket money on a belated birthday gift for Avery,” Ginny began, her voice monotone. “But I’m not sure I have the capacity to feel anything right now.”

Harry had been staring at the tabletop so long that his vision was entirely unfocused. It was all a blur.

“A baby,” he breathed.

Ginny gestured towards Lily with her nearly empty cocktail glass. “Look at that. They genuinely like her. Worse—I think she’s starting to genuinely like them. She always did like dangerous creatures…hippogriffs…dragons…Death Eaters…”

“A baby.”

Ginny gestured at the other end of the pub. “And look at that. Our son’s tongue is so deep in Scorpius Malfoy’s mouth that—oh, great. Great! I think his hand is halfway down his trousers, too. Unbelievable!”

“A baby.”

“This is _mad_! I swear it was only yesterday that they were—”

“Babies,” Harry supplied, dazed. He felt Ginny nudge him.

“Harry? Get it together. James and Nora will be here soon and they’ll have loads of explaining to do. I need you to help me interrogate.”

_A baby._

“Harry!”

“What?!” he snapped. “I’m thinking, all right?! Merlin!”

“…Take that tone with me again and James’ll be one of the only _two_ Potter males left on this planet with the capacity for creating new life…”

“I’ve already made all my new life,” Harry grumbled. “If anything, you’d only make our lives more convenient by doing that.”

“Yeah, I realize now that that wasn’t a very chilling threat. Sorry.”

“Me too,” he said. He tore his unfocused gaze from the table and turned to Ginny. He studied her worried eyes. “A baby, Gin.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. Yeah, a baby.”

“ _Our_ baby. Is having. A baby,” he continued. He was hoping saying it aloud in segments would help it make sense to him, but he still found the words and the concepts strange. How could _James_ be a father? _He_ was _James’s_ father. James was his son. James was still a _kid_ , for Merlin’s sake. How could this happen? What did he do wrong? He’d thought James understood during their talk. Had he not? Should Harry have stressed certain aspects more? Should he and Ginny have tried harder to keep James and Nora separated from each other (even if it made James miserable?).

With a sinking heart, Harry lowered his face into his hands. “This is my fault, Gin.”

His wife’s voice was full of dry humor. “Yeah—I think this might be one of the few things that you cannot, in any way, blame yourself for. I think you’ll find you weren’t involved in it at all.”

He wasn’t comforted. “It’s a dad’s job to make sure that his son understands how these things work and I thought I’d done a good job but…” he shook his head. “I failed him.”

“I think the contraception probably failed him, actually.”

“You know what I mean,” he muttered, slightly annoyed. He wanted her to blame him for this so he’d feel validated in beating himself up over it.

“It’s more my fault than yours,” Ginny finally said. Harry would’ve thought she was leading up to another flat, humorless joke, but there was genuine guilt woven throughout her words.

“How?” Harry demanded.

“I…sort of…gave Nora the talk,” she admitted quietly.

Harry stared. “Sorry. What? _When_? Why?! What on earth—why did you give our son’s _girlfriend_ a sex talk?”

“Okay, first of all, at the time she was only his friend,” Ginny defended, her voice weakly defiant.

Harry snorted. “When exactly were James and Nora ever ‘just friends’? They were smitten from the moment they met.”

Ginny ignored him. “Do you remember when she stayed with us for a week the summer before their third year?”

“How could I forget? They put on an...interesting…magical rendition of _Much Ado About Nothing_ that made next door call the Muggle police. That was embarrassing when my own Aurors showed up to do the memory modifications…” Harry trailed off as nostalgia overtook him.

“Well, in between their questionable Shakespeare adaptations and Quidditch games, Nora got her period for the first time, and I figured…she was really shaken up when she came to talk to me about it, and Delilah’s dead so she doesn’t have a mum or anybody at her home, and I wasn’t sure how close she was with her grandmothers or aunts, and so I…took it upon myself to explain it all to her.”

Harry frowned. “I’m still not sure how this is your fault. I’m sure you did a great job talking with her. You always do a great job talking about difficult things.”

“I obviously didn’t stress things the way I should have…I didn’t go into much detail, because she was so young, and I didn’t want to embarrass her, and I didn’t want to have to listen to Dean and Seamus whining that I’d told their ‘little girl’ more than she needed to know…but what if that was the only talk she ever got?!”

“Oh,” Harry realized.

“So you think it’s my fault?!”

“What? No! Like you said, _we_ didn’t do this. _We_ were entirely uninvolved in the process. And anyway, it wasn’t your responsibility to tell her about all of that.”  

“Well, we have to blame somebody, and it can’t be James or Nora.”

“Why not?! It’s technically their doing!”

“Because they’re…” Ginny trailed off, searching for the right word. “…James and Nora.”  

She had a point, even if Harry wasn’t even sure what it was.

“We could blame Dean?” he suggested hopefully.

Ginny sighed.

* * *

 

They didn’t have the heart to actually blame anybody, least of all their son and Nora. As soon as the couple sat across from them, Harry could tell they were so worried and scared that the slightest accusation would succumb them both to tears. Harry felt an all-consuming swell of protectiveness, the kind that made his mind shut down.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised them. The words came naturally, without prior consideration. He reached across the table and gently patted Nora’s clasped hands. Her brown eyes were shining behind a veil of tears. “I promise.”

She gave him and Ginny a watery, trembling smile. The tears accumulating in her eyes spilled over her bottom eyelashes and inched down her cheeks. Ginny reached across the table and took her hands firmly.

“Harry’s right. Chin up. We’re here for you both, no matter what you decide.”

Harry could feel James’s gaze weighing on him. He turned and met his son’s eyes. He had never seen him look more vulnerable before.

“I didn’t mean to,” he told Harry thickly.

Harry managed a weak laugh. “Yeah, no, I understand that, James.”

“It really _was_ an accident.”

“Yeah… _I understand_ ,” Harry stressed. “Technically, so was Lily. I get it.”

“Lily was a _surprise gift_ ,” Ginny corrected on instinct.

James sniffed. He rubbed over his red-rimmed eyes. “I thought that we were just—”

“Jamie,” Ginny interrupted gently. “Your dad and I probably have a good idea about what you thought.”

He nodded. He looked between Harry and Ginny, his eyes wide and aching. “I just wanted to make love to my girlfriend, not make a baby.”

Harry sighed. To his left, Ginny grimaced, and he thought he heard her whisper _‘gross’_ beneath her breath in a very Albus-esque fashion, but he couldn’t be sure.

“There are…ways to keep that from happening, you know,” Harry spoke up. “Ways to keep a baby from being made.” He felt a flash of irritation. “I assumed you were mature enough to use them.”

“I did! We did!” James cried at once. At his side, Nora was nodding fervently. “We’ve always done! But…well…Nora usually makes her potion on her own, because it’s easier to explain away individual ingredients in her potions kit than an actual vial of contraceptives, and it’s always been fine but…”

“I made a mistake,” Nora admitted. She fiddled nervously with her necklace. “One ingredient got a bit smashed.”

Ginny lowered her face into her hands. Harry was staring at his son in disbelief.

“You…James, why didn’t _you also_ …I mean, why was it all Nora’s responsibility to deal with this? That’s not fair. I taught you loads about all the different options…” he trailed off as James’s eyes filled with guilty tears. “…Merlin, Jamie.”

“Funnily enough,” Ginny said, her face still pressed into her hands. “I’m fairly positive that _I_ exist because of a faulty homemade potion. And your sister exists because Potter men seem to have some sort of innate aversion to—”

“Anyway,” Harry said quickly, before Ginny gave their son _way_ more information about their sex life than he needed to know. “I suppose our next question is obviously—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ginny demanded.

“…Not the question I had in mind, Gin.”

Ginny continued. “I’m your mum. And if you two have the baby, that’s my _grandchild._ You should have told me before now.”

_Grandchild_. Harry felt his heart jump painfully. A grandchild. There had been a time….many times, actually…where even imagining himself living to _twenty_ was an unreachable dream. And here he was, in the Three Broomsticks, sitting across from his son who was very possibly going to be a dad. Who was very possibly going to make Harry a _granddad._ He felt a bit winded at the thought.

“We just didn’t want to tell anybody yet,” James answered. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell _you_ , Mum. It’s just that…well, we have to keep it a secret for obvious reasons, and the entire situation is so stressful, and believe me, all we wanted to do was tell you both because we’ve been so…”

“Overwhelmed,” Nora supplied.

“Right,” James said, after shooting her a soft, fond smile. “That’s exactly it. Overwhelmed. We just weren’t ready to tell you. I wasn’t ready to risk disappointing you both and I’m still not ready. I was supposed to emotionally and mentally prepare myself and I haven’t done that prep work yet, so _please_ go easy on me; I’m really not as tough as I look.”

“You should have told me straight away,” Ginny persisted. “The order should’ve been: you find out, a Healer finds out, and then you tell me.”

“Okay. The next time I accidentally get Nora pregnant, I’ll be sure to follow that order,” James muttered.

“He’s joking,” Nora supplied quickly, as Ginny cocked an eyebrow challengingly. “Don’t get angry with him. He’s only slept four hours in the past two days.”

Harry looked to James, horrified. “What? _Four hours_?”

James bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Jamie?” Ginny demanded.

“I can’t sleep,” he told them. He set his hands on top the table and picked nervously at the skin beside his thumbnail. “I try to, but all I can think about is somebody sneaking into Nora’s dorm or—or…” he trailed off, his words trembling with genuine fear. Harry would’ve liked to have written off his feelings as paranoia, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t understand _exactly_ the emotion James was trying to articulate. He’d felt it three times. “And then, when Nora sleeps in my dorm so I don’t have to worry about that, I’ve got other things to worry about, and there’s just too much to do to sleep. I have to keep an eye on all these Death Eaters’ kids. I’ve got to keep up with the work Aunt Hermione’s given me to prepare the new department. I’ve got to learn how to cook! I don’t know how to cook! How can I be a dad if I don’t know how to cook? I don’t even know how to plait. What if we have a little girl and she wants me to plait her hair? I’ve got so much to learn and there’s just no time to waste on sleep.”

Harry was too busy flashing back to his own weeks of franticness to find any immediate words of comfort. Thank Merlin for Ginny.

“Okay, first off, take a deep breath,” Ginny instructed their son. He did as she said at once, and as soon as he’d exhaled, Ginny reached over and took _his_ hands this time. “Your dad said it would be okay, and he meant that. The first thing you’ve got to do is decide _what_ you want to do. Nora, have you thought about it? It’s okay if you haven’t yet.”

Nora lifted her head from James’s shoulder. She nodded. “We think we’ll keep most of our plans the same. I’m still going for the vault-design job at Gringotts, James is going to continue with this new department—” the little worried line that appeared between Nora’s eyebrows told Harry she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with that— “and Vic and Teddy are still planning on moving out of Grimmauld Place before their baby is born, so we’ll go there like we planned. Ben, Evvie, and Louis still want to live with us, so we’ll have plenty of people to help with the baby during…—what?”

Nora halted her explanation and stared curiously at Ginny, who had been watching Nora with an increasingly odd expression.

“I just—well, what I meant was—” Ginny paused for a brief moment. “I really meant…are you going to have the baby? But you two have…really thought this through.”

James and Nora exchanged a confused look.

“Well, of course we’re going to have it,” James said, baffled. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Er…because you two are incredibly young?” Harry supplied. James and Nora continued staring at him, that explanation clearly not enough. “You’re sort of…cheating yourselves out of a young adulthood? You can’t possibly understand the sort of thing you’re undertaking? You’re missing out on what people typically do the first few years out of school?”

They exchanged another look.

“But this _is_ what we were going to do,” Nora finally said, with James nodding to her side.

“Yeah, Dad, I told you that,” James reminded Harry. “I’ve been telling you this for ages. We were going to graduate, get married on the same day, and then have babies. So this is just a bit of an unexpected shortcut.”

Ginny was staring at Nora and Nora alone, her expression deeply searching. Harry knew she wanted to make sure that’s _really_ what Nora wanted.

“And you both understand what you’re getting yourselves into?” Harry pressed skeptically.

“Yes,” James said. He was watching Ginny examine Nora, a worried expression on his face. “Mum?” Ginny looked at James. “Do you…do you think that’s the wrong choice? What do you think we should do?”

“Oh,” Ginny said, surprised. For all the insult she’d felt earlier over the fact that James hadn’t immediately run to her for her input, she looked uncertain of what to say once he actually had. “I…Jamie, I wish I could tell you what to do—I love telling you lot what to do, you know that—but I think…this is really nobody’s decision but Nora’s and yours. Nora, are you sure this is what you want, without a doubt? I mean…pregnancy isn’t easy, childbirth’s not exactly…fun, and being a mum…it’s amazing, but it’s _incredibly_ difficult, and it’d still be just as amazing if you waited until you were older and more…ready.”

“That’s true,” Nora agreed. She didn’t look frightened at all at the prospect of being an eighteen-year-old mum, but then again, this was the same girl who had first created the game of _Catapult Lily_ and never seemed to worry that she wouldn’t be there to catch the plummeting girl. There were loads of different types of bravery, and Harry thought that Nora had a type he didn’t have much of. She seemed entirely confident and fearless in her ability to love and care for others. Harry could’ve used that sort of bravery during his first year of fatherhood. “But I think it’d be amazing now, and what’s more, I think it’d all be worth it.”

This time, Harry and Ginny were the ones exchanging a conflicted look. Did they demand that the two get rid of it? Did they write Dean and Seamus and get them on board with forcing the young couple to do that, too? Or did they respect that this was ultimately Nora and James’s decision—even if the decision they’d gone with could end up being a huge mistake?

“Okay,” Ginny finally said. Harry relaxed. He hadn’t wanted to fight, hadn’t wanted to force them into a decision he was certain they would end up resenting their parents for. It wasn’t as if they were a normal young couple, anyway. James and Nora had always seemed far beyond their years in matters of loyalty and devotion. And he guessed…as horrible as it probably was, as selfish…he had a difficult time with the idea of throwing the potential of family away. Family had always been the thing he cherished most, the thing he’d been without for so long, the thing he died for the chance at having, the thing he’d die for again in a heartbeat.

“If that is what you both want…genuinely, honestly…Harry and I are here. For all that entails,” Ginny promised.

_This_ was the part of parenting that Harry was best at. “You don’t have to worry about anybody hurting you two or the—baby,” the word still stuck, like a hinge that hadn’t gotten use in far too long. “I won’t let anybody do that. We’ll keep this a secret from everybody who doesn’t already know, and you can actually sleep, Jamie, because your mum and I won’t let anything happen.”

And this was one of the most rewarding parts of parenting: visibly watching as the weight upon his son’s shoulders lifted at Harry’s promise. He squared his shoulders, his spine straightened. His cheeks even looked less pale. Nora appeared incredibly moved by his and Ginny’s words and chose to hide her face into James’s jumper.

“We were worried you would be disappointed and angry,” James finally admitted thickly. Tears clung to his eyelashes. “We were worried we’d have to do it alone. And the worst part wouldn’t even be that. The worst part would be knowing that you were both angry with us.”

Harry’s heart ached. For the first time, instead of imagining James in _his_ shoes when _he’d_ first realized that he was going to be a dad, he put himself in _James’s_ shoes. N.E.W.T year, a resurrection of Dark Magic, students within the school who had nearly killed his brother with an Unforgivable and used one on James himself. A legion of dementors who appeared at the call of ex-Death Eaters, dementors who’d nearly killed Nora once already. The pressure of being partially in charge of the creation of an entirely new department within the Ministry, all before he’d even graduated yet. His _own_ version of Dumbledore’s Army, with perhaps more responsibilities than Harry had ever had as he led up his DA. Lessons with McGonagall. Quidditch. No, in so many ways, this entire situation had to have been harder for James than it’d ever been for Harry.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Harry said. “I’m not angry. I just want you to be safe and happy.” He felt an unexpected sting of longing, and he realized it was because he would’ve given anything to have heard something like that from his own dad growing up.

Ginny rose from their side of the table and walked over. She pushed her way between James and Nora, perched on the edges of their chairs, and wrapped an arm around both of their shoulders. Her embrace was comfort enough.

“Have you told your dads, Nora?” Harry wondered.

“Not yet,” she grimaced.  

“You can tell that she hasn’t because I’m still breathing,” James said. He’d been aiming for a joking tone, but it fell flat in his fear.

“That will end up okay, too,” Ginny reassured them both. “Dean and Seamus will come around. Now, enough tears. It’s not time for tears. It’s time for planning and, most importantly, lunch.”

Harry stood. “I’ll order. What does everybody want? The usual, Gin?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Nora? James?” Harry asked.

James leaned forward and looked over at Nora. Her mouth twisted in response to his silent question.

“Still?” he asked, pained. Ginny caught on quickly.

“Are you feeling sick?” she asked Nora.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Vic gave me a Hydration Draught but I can’t keep anything down.”  

“Well, what’s the last thing you _did_ manage to keep down?” Ginny demanded.

Nora bit her lip. She looked up at James. “It was…toast? The toast you brought me last night?”

“No, you were sick an hour afterwards, so I don’t think that counts,” he murmured back. “Tea this morning?”

“Right,” she realized. She looked back at Ginny. “Tea. And Vic told me to drink the Hydration Draught every four hours until the sickness gets better.”

Ginny was gaping. “That’s _horrible._ Those Hydration Draughts taste like…piss. No, you can’t do that. That’s no way to live. Come with me. Forget lunch. We’re going back to the apothecary and Flooing my mum, she’ll know a remedy, I guarantee it.”

James automatically stood to follow them, but Ginny gave him a look.

“Stay, have lunch,” she said sternly. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know that! I just want to be where she is…”

“He can come with us,” Nora told Ginny hopefully, her eyes filled with the same longing James’s held.

“No. He can stay and have lunch with his dad. Honestly, you two act like I’m separating you for weeks…”

Murmuring incredulously underneath her breath, Ginny walked off with a somewhat reluctant Nora.  

* * *

 

Harry and James walked quietly down the street. They were a measured distance from Lily, keeping her in sight, but Harry was mostly focused on James. He wasn’t sure what to say. He still hadn’t really processed the situation. But thankfully, James had never been one to leave Harry guessing where his head was at.

“I think I’m excited,” he told Harry.

His eyes were on the passing shops. Harry didn’t think he was imaging the slight pep in his step.

“Yeah?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I think I’m _really_ excited. I can’t wait to meet the baby. He or she will be half Nora and half me, so I know they’ll be amazing.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He was glad James wasn’t looking in his direction.

“You’re not worried at all? Or frightened?”

“Oh, I’m so frightened that I feel shaky all the time. And look,” he lifted his hands up. Harry winced at the injured skin around his fingers. “But I’m not scared to have a baby or be a dad. I’m scared that something will happen to my family.”

He gave a sudden hop. Harry looked over at him, alarmed, only to find James beaming so brilliantly that it was like peering into a spotlight.

“My _family,”_ he repeated, thrilled. “My _family. My_ family.”

Harry really ought to have reiterated the fact that this journey was going to be everything _but_ the fairytale James seemed to think it would be, but he couldn’t be the one to take that smile from his son’s face.

“It’s a good feeling,” he agreed instead. “The feeling you’re feeling right now. It’s a great one.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, a bit dreamily. He walked on in silence for another minute, and then he looked up at Harry, that uncharacteristic vulnerability from that morning creeping back into his voice. “Can I show you something?”

Harry nodded at once. “Of course.”

* * *

 

He was led back towards the apothecary, and for a moment, Harry thought James was going right back to Nora. But then he pulled Harry into Magical Morganite, the jewelry shop beside the apothecary. Harry shared a quick, confused greeting with the shop attendant as James pulled him towards the far wall, towards a glass display full of shimmering jewelry in every shade one could imagine. Without a word being said, the attendant walked over, opened the case, and pulled out a thin, fragile looking engagement ring, adorned with tiny, periwinkle-colored stones. _Oh_.

“It’s perfect,” James told Harry.

“It’s certainly…beautiful,” Harry allowed.

“I’ve been paying on it every month. I’ve already paid nearly one hundred galleons, but I have a lot to go. Pola is nice; he’s holding it for me, even though it’s taking a while.”

Harry reached forward. “May I?” he asked Pola. He nodded. Harry reached forward and lifted the ring up carefully. He squinted at it. “Did Nora pick it out?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” James said proudly. “Nobody knows but me and Pola. I mean, I think Nora probably knows _why_ I’ve been mailing money here monthly, but she’s never seen the ring.”

“Ah,” Harry said. He looked at Pola. “How much does it cost?”

“Three hundred galleons.”

Harry had expected close to that amount. As he inspected the ring (he wasn’t even sure _why_ he was inspecting it; he knew nothing about jewelry), James continued.

“This is why I wanted to win that bet this summer,” he admitted.

Harry had almost forgotten about that bet. He wondered if Albus and Scorpius had spent their day spending all of Albus’s bet money. He hoped so; they deserved a fun day.

“Oh,” Harry said lamely. He gently settled the ring back down on its holder and looked at James. For a moment, he thought James had shown him this in the hopes that Harry would give him the rest of the money, but as he looked back at his son and his brilliant smile, he realized James had really just wanted to share it with somebody.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked.

Harry smiled fondly. “Jamie, you _know_ she’ll like it.”

James beamed. “Yeah. She will. I’ve got it _all_ planned out…”

Harry and his son walked out into the meager sunshine, plans and hopes overflowing from James’s eager lips. As they talked, Harry couldn’t help but find James’s excitement and passion for life a bit contagious.

* * *

 

“Where were you?” Ginny demanded. She set her journal face-down on the bed and sat up. Two cats leapt away, annoyed at her change in position. “You missed Lily’s little Death Eaters _hugging her_ goodbye. She’s coming by for dinner, so I can’t wait to hear what she’s done now.”

Harry snorted. “Leave it to Lily to not only manipulate a group of people, but to also make them like her in the process. Every day I wonder why she wasn’t put in Slytherin with Al.” Harry carefully set his shopping bags atop the coffee table.

“Because she’s got more nerve than the majority of the Earth’s population,” Ginny answered. He could feel her gaze on him as he rummaged through his bag from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. “James came by looking for Nora about an hour ago. He said he left you behind in Hogsmeade? What were you doing?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry responded. He opened the box containing his new quills to make sure he’d been given the correct amount; that particular shop worker had a tendency to short him one quill when he purchased a set. “I was meeting up with my lover.”

“And you were only gone an _hour_? She certainly didn’t get the full Harry Potter experience.”

“Affairs are rushed things, Gin, you can’t—oi!” Harry dumped out the box of quills he’d gotten for Albus. He lined them up and recounted; four instead of five. “He shorted me again!”

“He does love doing that, doesn’t he? I think he pockets the ones he doesn’t give us. Why did you buy so many quills?”

“I bought our kids replacements. Theirs are looking really shoddy. Oh, and a set for Roxanne; she’s been borrowing a quill from me every class period. I can’t believe he did it _again_! I’ll never learn.”

“You’ve got to count them in front of him. That’s what I do. I dump the box out right at the till and slowly count them…he usually gets so nervous that he quickly provides the quill he ‘forgot’ before I even finish counting.”

“Ruthless,” Harry commented. He set the quills aside with a sigh. He dug to the bottom of that bag and pulled out a smaller one. He tossed it towards Ginny; she caught it neatly. “That’s what I was doing.”

He set about returning all the quills to their respective boxes while Ginny opened the bag. He heard the creak as the box opened.

“This is…nice…but it’s an engagement ring and we’re already married. Am I supposed to be angry with you? Is this an apology gift? What did you do that I’m supposed to be _this_ angry about?”

“The affair?” Harry suggested.

“Well, Harry,” Ginny began, faux frustration woven through her words, “that’s only worth, you know, a bracelet or—a new broom seat, so I wished you’d spoken with me first before you spent all this money needlessly.”

“… _Multiple_ affairs?”

“How many is multiple?”

“…Twenty,” Harry said. He turned to sort through his next bag, just because he was nearing laughter and he didn’t want Ginny to notice.

“Anything below thirty is just disappointing and an embarrassment to the family name.”

“Right, sorry. I’ll make you proud next time.”

“Seriously—what’s with the ring?” Ginny pressed.

Harry blindly tossed the sugar quill he’d picked up for Ginny over his shoulder. Thankfully, he heard the soft _smack_ as she caught it.

“Our son’s been mailing every bit of his pocket money to a jeweler for the past year so he could propose to Nora with _that_ ,” Harry shared. “Already shelled out one hundred galleons. It explains why he swears he never has money.”

“At this point, nothing surprises me. You could tell me James bought eight cots, a house, and a cutlery set, and I’d say ‘sounds like James’. He asked you to buy it?”

“No—he has no idea that I did. I snuck in after he went back up to the castle. Took me half an hour to talk the jeweler into selling it to me—kept saying it was ‘promised to James Potter’ and didn’t seem comforted by the fact that I’m his dad. As if I’d steal it or something.” Harry shook his head, annoyed. He crossed over to the bed in the middle of the sitting room and fell back onto it. He leaned forward and took a bite off the top of Ginny’s sugar quill; she aimed a hard kick at his shin in response. He rubbed over it as he asked his next question. “How’s Nora?”

“Much better,” Ginny nodded. “She just needed a nice, old-fashioned Mum Remedy.”

Harry could tell that Ginny wanted to say something else, so he waited.

“It sort of breaks my heart that she’s got to go through all of this without a mum,” she admitted.

“Did she say something about that?” Harry frowned.

“Not exactly. She just seemed so relieved after our afternoon together, like she’d needed it for a while now. And it got me thinking. She doesn’t seem bothered by it—not having a mum, I mean—but she’s also never really known any different; Delilah’s been dead for as long as she can remember. I don’t know…I guess I just can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to go through my first pregnancy without _my_ mum.”

Harry knew firsthand that not having any memories of your deceased parents didn’t change the longing you felt for them one bit. He was sure that Nora noticed her mum’s absence, even if she couldn’t remember a time that she’d been present. And he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t said anything about it to Ginny; it wasn’t an easy thing to talk about. Harry had shouldered that longing his entire childhood without voicing it to anybody. How could you put into words the pain of missing somebody you hardly even knew? It was better to keep it inside yourself. Even now, Harry wasn’t sure how to explain it to somebody like Ginny, who’d thankfully had loving parents her entire life. He didn’t much want to, either. He chose instead to shift the topic slightly.

“And how _did_ Molly take the news?”

“Oddly, she didn’t seem that surprised,” Ginny commented. “I think she saw it coming. Though I did get a few accusatory looks, so I have a feeling you and I will pay for this one way or another.” Ginny closed the ring box and set it back into the bag. “When are you going to tell him you bought it?”

“Not sure. Part of me thinks I should keep it a secret until they graduate—to discourage the whole getting-engaged-while-in-school-thing…but it sort of seems like we’re past that point. Having a child together is more binding than a marriage ceremony. When do you think the baby _will_ be born?”

“During N.E.W.T.s is the actual due date. But, as we learned, could be much earlier than that, could be later.”

“Let’s hope for later. James will almost certainly insist on taking the baby with him to his exams, and something tells me his scores won’t be improved upon because of that.”

“He’s unreal,” Ginny sighed, frustrated. “Which reminds me…” she rolled over to the edge of the bed and reached down towards the floor. Harry openly admired her bum as she did.

“Where did it go? It was right here…”

“Take your time,” he told her, a cheeky grin in place. She aimed a blind, playful kick his way that only just managed to hit his knee.

“If one of the cats—ah ha, it just rolled, here we go.” She sat up and scooted back beside Harry. She unceremoniously dropped a bottle of firewhisky down between them. “To celebrate.”

“Celebrate _what_?!” Harry demanded, horrified.

“We’ve achieved the triad of bad parenting. We’ve got: ‘child nearly murdered on our watch— _twice_ ’, ‘child joins radical blood supremacist group’ and, finally, ‘teen pregnancy’. You have to admit…it takes dedication to do this poorly of a job.”

Despite the genuine feelings of insecurity lurking in both of them, they shared a laugh. Ginny summoned two glasses while Harry opened the bottle. He poured a generous amount into both of their glasses. They tapped them together.

“Cheers to our excellent bad parenting.”

They lapsed into silence as they drank. Harry set his glass into his palm as he thought.

“Could be worse, though,” he piped up. His chest was delightfully warm from the alcohol. Red patches were already blooming over Ginny’s cheeks, even though she’d only had a few sips.

 “Yeah?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah. We could’ve had a son who impregnated some random girl—and then abandoned her. At least he genuinely loves Nora. At least he was already planning on marrying her. At least he’s doing right by her and sticking around. And, you know…I think he’s actually going to make a really brilliant dad.”

“Yes, well,” Ginny said. She held her glass steady as she moved over to curl up against Harry’s side. He wrapped his arm around her and pressed his face into her hair. “He learned by watching the best example.”

Harry’s eyes burned and his throat narrowed somewhat, so he quickly took another large sip.

“I think we’ll get it right this time,” Ginny nodded. “By the time our grandkids are here. I’ll think we’ll have the parenting thing down. So even if we were shit parents—which, you know, I don’t think we were, but in a worst case scenario—we could still be great grandparents.”

It was a lovely thought. He smiled. “ _Grandparents_. I think I might be excited about that. I know it’s not an ideal situation…I probably _shouldn’t be_ excited. It’s just…I never imagined. You know?”

“I do,” she reassured him, and he knew that she did.

“I really thought that I would die and that would be it. And now I’m here, with _you_ , and we’ve got our kids, and our kids are going to have kids, and…” he trailed off. “It’s amazing how things work out. Had one thing been different…one tiny thing…none of this would be happening. James wouldn’t even exist, so this baby wouldn’t either, and that’s…” he blinked. “Merlin, I just realized how many lives we’re really responsible for.”

Ginny poked his cheek. “Welcome to the feeling pregnant women get in waves.”

Harry relaxed into Ginny’s side. He exhaled. He thought about his son getting married, being a dad. At least he was safe. At least he didn’t have the weight of self-sacrifice for the greater good on his shoulders. The only responsibility he had now was love, and James was better equipped for that responsibility than almost anybody else. “Could be worse.”

“Could be much worse,” she agreed.

“That’s as good a parenting mantra as any.”

“I’m so glad Hermione isn’t here to hear this.”

* * *

 

Lily arrived twenty minutes later than she’d said she would, and when she finally burst into their living quarters, she was in a fiery rage.

“I _hate_ him!” she greeted. In a fit of fury, she aimed a kick at a nearby table. She was rewarded with what looked like intense pain; she said a string of particularly offensive swears and hopped her way over to the nearest armchair. Harry dropped the spoon back into the pot, bewildered.

“Hi, Lulu,” Ginny greeted calmly. She continued writing in her journal. “Who do you hate now?”

“Rowle?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No!” Lily snapped. “Well—sometimes, but not right this moment. _Right now_ I hate _my brother_!”

“Which one?”

“The _stupid one_ with the _idiotic hair_!”

“…So which one?”

“ _James_!”

“James?” Ginny asked, surprised. “Usually it’s Albus that sends you into a rage. What did James do?”

“He has a secret and he won’t tell me!”

_Oh Merlin,_ Harry thought. Lily finding out that there was a secret was basically telling Lily the secret, as she’d now devote all of her time and energy towards discovering it until she was successful.

“He said it was _none of my business_! Can you believe that?! He _is_ my business! He’s my very own brother!!” Lily punctuated her cry with another kick, this time with her heel towards the corner of the armchair. Like the previous time, she dissolved into profanity. “It’s _not_ my Mini Death Eaters! They haven’t threatened him! So what is going on?”

“Nothing,” Ginny lied smoothly. “He’s just focused on his new job. He can’t tell any of us the specifics about it. He knows a lot of sensitive information.”

“No, no,” Lily insisted. She was rubbing her injured heel. “’Cause he was in the Common Room with Nora, and they were talking about medicines that Vic gave them today! Vic! _Our_ Vic!”

“So?” Harry demanded. He stirred the soup he was working on one more time and then set the lid firmly in place so it could simmer a bit longer. He turned to stare fully at Lily. “Why’s that a big deal?”

“Because it’s was a very in-depth conversation! Because Vic came all the way to Hogsmeade to sneak them medicine!” Lily stressed, seemingly annoyed that Harry wasn’t as worried as she was. “Is he ill? You have to tell me the truth, Dad. Is my brother ill?” Harry tried not to, but his head automatically swiveled in Ginny’s direction. She grimaced back at him. Lily didn’t miss it; her face paled a second later. She looked at Ginny. “Mummy, is he going to die?! Is _Nora_ going to die?!”

“No,” Ginny said quickly, so quickly that it almost sounded like a snap. “Of course not. He’s…had a headache, so don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried about it.”

“Well, don’t be.”

“But I _am_.”

“But you don’t need to be.”

“…But I _am_.”

Ginny heaved a sigh. She shot Harry a _help me_ look, but Harry merely shrugged and turned back to his soup.

“Do they have an STI?” Lily asked curiously.

“No, Lily.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there’s no way that either of them slept with anybody else. Now let it go, Lily Luna,” Ginny said.

“But maybe they both had sex with somebody else _together_.”

“Oh, for fuc—Harry, can you deal with this?”

“Absolutely not; you’re doing a stellar job,” Harry called back. He dipped the ladle back into the soup and hesitantly brought it to his lips. Once the shock of the hot temperature wore off, he was able to appreciate the bursts of pleasant flavor. _I did it again, ha._

“I can think of three people they would probably have sex with together.”

“I can think of three things I’m going to take away from you if you continue hypothesizing about your brother and Nora’s nonexistent threesomes.”

“You don’t know if they’re nonexistent. What are these three things you’ll take? Because I’m rather enjoying this conversation, so it might be worth it.”

“Your broom, your DA coin, and your potion ingredients. And if you keep at it after that, your life. How’s that, cheeky backchatter?”

“…So what are you making, Dad?” Lily asked. She rose from the armchair with a slight grimace and dramatically hobbled her way over to Harry. He looked down at her as she lifted herself up onto the counter, his heart swelling from memories of little Lulu doing the same innumerable times. He smiled down at her.

“Pea and ham. Do you want to help?”

Lulu ‘helping’ had always been more like Lulu causing trouble and stealing the food before it was even done, but he always offered despite that, because he liked spending time with her. And like she always did as a little girl, she grinned at his offer and nodded.

“I’ll stir!” she said immediately, which had always been her preferred task. Harry had already begun passing her the ladle.

“While you two cook,” Ginny called, “Lulu can tell us about her Hogsmeade trip today. It looked very…fun.”

Lily withdrew a ladle-full of soup and sipped from the edge of it. Her eyes flew to Harry’s.

“Yum!” she appreciated. Pride pierced throughout Harry.

“It’s not too salty?” he worried.

“No!” she reassured him. She drank the rest on the ladle and then dropped it back into the soup. Harry was glad they weren’t having any guests other than family, and even their family might not have been too happy to know Lily had eaten off the serving utensil. She swung her legs and looked back to Ginny. “It was fun. We just, you know, chilled.”

Harry looked across the room at Ginny. They exchanged a bemused look.

“Er…yeah? So…how was that?” Harry pressed.

“How was what?”

“Er—chilling.”

“Oh! Yeah, good. Did you know that Avery’s never been given a gift before? Ever?” Lily asked. “His birthday was last week.”

“And you spent the last of your pocket money on one for him,” Ginny called her out. Lily’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she managed to keep an impassive expression. “Do you actually like them, Lu?”

Lily turned back to the soup and began needlessly stirring it. She shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I mean—as much as I like anyone, really. Anyone can be annoying from time to time.”

Harry scoffed. “Oh, thanks, Lulu.”

“You two aren’t _anyone_ ,” she told them with an eye roll. “You’re my parents. Family isn’t _anyone_.”

“So what did you lot talk about? I mean…what do you really have in common? Did you have to talk badly about muggleborns for all that time?”

“No! I’m weaning them from that. It’s working better with some than with others. I told them it’s alienating people from our cause. And because of me, Saul’s back! Claire’s thrilled, and Avery didn’t really shift his expression much, but I think he actually felt a tiny something. A _tiny, tiny_ something. He really needs to talk to a professional, I think, but he smiled at me after I gave him his birthday gift. It was a pretty great gift, too. I bought him a new chess set. He’s great at chess.”

Lily stole another ladle-full of soup. Harry caved and passed her a spoon.

“What about plans?” Ginny pressed. “Did they start making any more?”

“Nope,” Lily said. She sank her newly acquired spoon into the pot of soup and withdrew it. “We just talked mostly. They seemed content with just being heard. You know, I think they value my opinion. It’s nice. I like that.” She sipped the soup from her spoon and went to get more from the pot. Harry filled a small bowl with soup instead and passed it to her.

“While I’m glad that you’re…finding common ground with these kids and enjoying yourself,” Harry began, “I want you to keep in mind that they’re not innocent classmates. Don’t ever let your guard down.”

“I was _born_ with my guard up,” Lily said. “You don’t need to worry, Dad. I’m strong.”

“Strength has nothing to do with vigilance.”

“And you certainly weren’t born with a guard up,” Ginny added. “Are you forgetting the time your brother talked you into flying across London?”

“I _wanted_ to do that, Mum,” she said, exasperated. “And don’t worry, Dad. I’ve got this. They’re going to give up on their Death Eater ways by the end of the month, guaranteed.”

Harry wasn’t sure that was a gamble he was willing to make.

* * *

 

The morning of Halloran Carrow’s trial arrived with torrents of icy rain. It was still pitch black when Harry rose. The steady tapping of the downpour against the windows almost lulled Harry back to sleep; in those first few moments of consciousness, he had little interest in leaving his warm bed to venture out into the cold, wet day. But it wasn’t long before he remembered what he had to do today, and there wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to do to help Albus get justice for what had been done to him.

Their living quarters were stuffed with people: Lily and Aster were in the guest room, James and Nora were in the living room, Albus and Scorpius were on a camp bed. Ginny had pointed out the day prior that having everybody in one spot would be much more convenient than traipsing around the castle at four AM struggling to get into each House to wake and gather the children. Nora and Aster wouldn’t be coming along—they hadn’t witnessed the event—but James and Lily had both refused to leave them behind in the dormitories, which led to a crowded night.

As Harry crept from Ginny’s side and tip-toed from the bedroom (ignoring the slurred comments the enchanted mirror made about his sleep-tousled hair), he fully expected everybody to still be asleep. But when he stepped into the living room, he was surprised to see movement and light in the far right corner of the room. A few candles on the desk were lit, and sitting in front of it were Albus and Nora, both looking a bit worse for the wear; the queasiness on both their faces might’ve had different causes, but it seemed to be in equal degrees.

“Good morning,” Harry called quietly. He didn’t want to disturb their soft conversation, but he also didn’t want to startle them by creeping in without announcing his presence. Still, Nora gave a jump, and Albus’s hand automatically pushed into his pajama trousers, where Harry was sure his wand was stashed. Harry offered them a tired wave. “It’s just me. I’m making breakfast. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Always hungry,” Albus assured him, after his muscles had slowly released their tension and his hand had withdrawn from his pocket.

As Albus and Nora resumed talking, Harry made his way towards the kitchen area. James was asleep on his stomach, his limbs sprawled out, his arm reaching over to where Nora would’ve been. Scorpius was curled up on his side, in a position that clearly showed where Albus had been prior to waking (most likely curled around Scorpius). Harry couldn’t hear any noise from Lily and Aster’s room, so he hoped that meant the two were still asleep. As Harry rummaged for ingredients, bits of Albus and Nora’s conversation flowed over to him.

“I wouldn’t even _look_ at him,” Nora was saying. “Don’t even give him the gift of eye contact.”

“Lily said I should stare him down,” Albus snorted.

“I guess you could, if you wanted to show that you’re absolutely not afraid of him, but honestly, I wouldn’t even give him a bit of my attention. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“I’d like to give him some hand gestures…”

Nora laughed softly. “Wouldn’t we all. If you get around to it, give him one for me.”

“Which one? This one?”

“No—this one,” Nora corrected, and Albus fell quickly into laughter at whatever rude hand gesture she’d made.   

Harry was smiling as he gathered eggs and bacon and every other necessary ingredient. It never failed to make him happy to see Albus actually talking about his fears and insecurities, rather than bottling them up and allowing them to fester. And he especially loved to see Albus speaking with family. Harry couldn’t hear anything else as he started cooking—the sizzling from the pans drowned out their quiet voices—but when he made his way back over towards the ice box, he was once again close enough to hear.

“What do you think your dads will say?” Albus wondered.

“They probably won’t say much at first,” Nora said. “I think Dean might cry. Seamus will walk off into another room—and then probably break something.”

“I’m guessing those outbursts won’t be from happiness...”

“Clever guess,” Nora sighed. Harry glanced over at them from the top of the opened ice box door; Albus was patting Nora’s arm.

“If they _are_ that upset, just remind them that you could’ve killed somebody instead of creating somebody. That might put it into perspective.”

Nora muffled loud peals of laughter into her palm, clearly taken aback and tickled by Albus’s response. Once her laughter pandered off—and she was no longer at risk of waking James and Scorpius—she lowered her hand and leaned in. She pulled Albus into a tight, grateful hug, one that Albus probably would’ve shrugged his way out of a year prior. But this time he patted her back and smiled. Harry lowered back down so the ice box door was shielding him and smiled. Albus hadn’t given the best advice, but honestly, Albus giving any advice at all usually meant a lot.

“Yeah, I might do that,” she said. “They just want me to achieve what they think is my ‘full potential’ and I think they might view this baby as a…”

“Roadblock?”

“Yes.”

“Then they’ve got no faith in my brother,” Albus scoffed. “Or in you! You two…well…” Albus trailed off. His tone softened as he grew sheepish. “I just think…well, you’re both perfect for this. Being parents and stuff.”

There was a brief pause. When Nora spoke, she sounded moved to the point of tears. “Thanks, Al. That’s very nice to hear.”

Harry knew his prolonged stay at the open ice box was probably suspicious, and anyway, he was getting extremely cold, so he shut it and returned to his cooking. After a few more furtive glances towards Al and Nora, he realized their mutual queasiness hadn’t abated, so while the sausages cooked he made them ginger tea. He tapped the hob with his wand and lowered the heat before walking over to them, two steaming mugs in hand. He wordlessly handed them out.

“Thank you,” Nora said, with a quick, brilliant smile.

“Thanks, Dad,” Albus echoed, but his voice was much duller. Harry slowly lowered to sit beside Albus.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“I might vomit,” he admitted. His clammy complexion backed that warning up. He gestured at Nora. “We’re going to start a morning vomiting club. Interested?”

Harry smiled. “I’ve felt that way enough times in my life; I could certainly join. Listen. It’s all right to feel this way. It’s a nerve-wracking thing your first time, testifying. But I’ll be there the entire time. Halloran won’t be able to hurt you or anybody else. And Aunt Hermione won’t be cruel during questioning.”

Albus took a sip of his tea. Harry wasn’t sure he’d done a good job of reassuring him, but he knew from experience that only getting the actual event over and done with would offer any real comfort.

* * *

“We’re late,” Albus fretted.

“No, we’re not late! We’re just…not early. We’re exactly on time!” Ginny said.

“This is all your and Dad’s fault!” Albus accused angrily. “You should’ve bathed _last night_!”

Harry avoided Ginny’s eyes as he said: “Everybody _else_ showered last night, Al, there wasn’t an opportunity.”

“Yeah, well, you two always insist on pairing up, so I think it probably would’ve worked out okay,” Albus snapped.

Ginny pursed her lips and looked up as if examining the hanging candelabras. Harry cleared his throat and glanced at Fabian Prewett’s wristwatch.

“We’ll make it there on time, don’t worry,” he told Albus. “We’ve just got to get down to the bottom level.”

Albus muttered something beneath his breath that Harry was glad he missed. The five Potters and two Malfoys loaded onto the thankfully empty lift. Albus was looking extremely faint by the time they made it to the tenth level. Ginny wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him protectively to her side; he leaned into her embrace, his face ashen.

“I don’t want to do this,” he mumbled.

Lily was aghast. “I thought you wanted to get revenge on him?! This is your chance! Tell them what he did so he can be punished!”

“I just…I was wrong, I’ve changed my mind,” Albus said. Scorpius stepped over and grabbed onto Albus’s hand. “I just want all of this to be over. I don’t want to testify. I just want it to be over.”

“They’ll listen to you,” Draco reassured Albus. “It won’t be terrible. They probably won’t even ask many questions. Just tell them exactly what happened—that’s all you’ve got to do.”

“No. Nope. Don’t want to. Scorpius, I don’t want to.”

Scorpius looked up at Harry. “Does he have to?”

“Al,” Harry said urgently. He ushered his family from the lift as it opened (Ginny and Scorpius had to drag Albus). “We’re here now. We’ve just got to do it. Like Draco said, it really won’t be bad, and after this, it really _will_ be over. For good. You won’t be alone—I’m going first, and then I’ll be sitting at the front for the rest of the time, right where you can see me. Okay?”

Albus glanced to his left, towards Scorpius. Scorpius offered him a slightly dampened beam.

“Imagine how much better you’ll feel once this is all over,” Scorpius said. “It won’t _really_ be over if you don’t face him, if he’s not punished—not really.”

Albus held Scorpius’s gaze, his chin trembling slightly. After a heavy moment, he nodded.

* * *

 

Harry hardly remembered his own testimony—he had met Hermione’s eyes and recounted everything he had seen, only stumbling when it came time to talk about the effect Halloran’s curse had had on Albus. As he recounted Albus’s suffering—choking on his own blood, enduring unimaginable pain—he had instead directed his gaze to Halloran, who didn’t even have the decency to look away.

James went after Harry. He was remarkably professional and composed as if he gave testimonies in front of the entire Wizengamot daily. He looked at whoever was asking him questions and looked nowhere else, his back straight, his head held high. He oozed surety in a way that visibly won over everybody on the Wizengamot; going by the nasty looks a few sent Halloran’s way after James’s testimony, James had done a better job than even Harry had.

Lily was next, and Harry spent her entire testimony clenching his fists tightly, praying she would keep her temper in check. While she made some unforgettable statements such as: “Halloran wouldn’t know guts or strategy if they jinxed him up the bum”, she was otherwise restrained (for Lily, anyway). She didn’t look away from Halloran once; she stared him down for nearly twenty straight minutes with an intensity that even made Harry slightly uncomfortable. By the time she left the room, Harry thought Halloran looked a bit sweatier than he had previously.

And then there was Scorpius. He walked hesitantly into the huge courtroom and then stopped dead in place, clearly not expecting that many people or that big of a room. Hermione smiled reassuringly at him as Harry gestured him forward. He crossed over and sank down onto the edge of the chair. He stared wide-eyed at all the Wizengamot members.

“Mr. Malfoy,” the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot began. “Could you tell us what happened?”

Harry wished they’d given Scorpius a more direct question. He glanced to his left where Draco was sitting nearby the door (parents of minors were always permitted inside while their children were testifying). He had also winced. And sure enough, Scorpius began a long-winded, complicated explanation for the short event that had taken place. On and on he went, beginning with events from earlier in the day that were—strictly speaking—unnecessary. He spent ten minutes recounting the exact words that had been said during the verbal part of the skirmish. And when it came time to discuss the curse on Albus itself, he gave such a wounded, emotional recount that Harry saw a few members of the Wizengamot mopping at teary eyes. He felt weepy himself, though he was able to fight the tears back.

When Scorpius finally stopped, a few Wizengamot members were quick to thank him and send him on his way, clearly worried somebody else would ask a question and get him going again. Scorpius’s tendency towards wordiness when upset had actually worked in his favor.

It was Albus Harry was most worried about, but when Albus entered, he realized he’d never had any reason to be. Albus walked in with his head held high. He seemed to have decided to follow Nora’s advice from that morning because he didn’t so much as look in Halloran’s direction. He sat down, looked up at his aunt, and waited. When _he_ was asked to recount, he did so in a detached, clinical voice, one that was bluntly accurate but somehow still removed. He was honest about the depth of the pain, but none of that pain was audible in his voice. Harry caught Halloran trying desperately to catch Albus’s eye, but Albus stoutly refused. He was asked a long series of questions by members and he handled them with such grace that Harry’s eyes burned with pride. He knew Ginny felt the same; when he glanced over at the row of seats by the door, Ginny was practically glowing with pride for their son.

It was the last question that finally caught him somewhat off guard.

“How long will it be until you’re fully healed?” a member of the Wizengamot asked.

Harry’s heart sank. He watched as Albus nearly winced.

“You mean…the bleeding thing?” Albus asked.

“Yes.”

Albus was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I won’t be. Not ever.”

The man who’d asked the question arched his eyebrow. “You could bleed out from as little as a shallow cut at any point and that won’t ever get better?”

“No. I mean…not as far as anybody knows. They’ve never had anybody survive this, so loads of things are…up in the air, but…” Albus’s eyes darted once to Halloran. He quickly corrected his gaze, but Harry could tell ignoring him was getting more and more difficult. Albus fumbled beneath his shirt and pulled out the tiny vial he kept on a chain. “I carry this with me. If I get cut or...injured in any way, I’ve got to put this on it immediately.”

“So this curse could still end up killing you.”

It was obvious that idea hadn’t occurred to Albus. Harry thought about his words from earlier ( _I just want this to be over)_. Albus’s face fell as he realized that this would never really be over. He’d have to live in this situation Halloran had created for the rest of his life. Harry felt sick. It seemed to harden the resolve of everybody on the Wizengamot, so by the time Halloran had his chance to speak, Harry was certain there was nothing he could say to help his own case in any way. However, that turned out to be the opposite from what Halloran had in mind.

“I did it,” Halloran said at once. “I tried to murder Albus Potter. I did it in cold blood. I would do it again.”

A whispered ripple traveled through the stands. Harry turned and looked up at Hermione, confused. She met his baffled look.

“You admit you did this with full knowledge of what would happen to Mr. Potter?”

“Yes. I expected and hoped that it would kill him. There’s still hope that it might.”

Harry clenched his jaw. From above him, Hermione said, her voice cold: “I believe we’ve heard enough, Mr. Carrow.”

It seemed closed and shut for the members of the Wizengamot. They watched Halloran escorted out with shared expressions of disgust and anger. But it didn’t sit right with Harry—and that wasn’t only because he was infuriated by Halloran’s disregard for his son’s life. He knew for a fact that Halloran had been aiming for _him_ …so why had Halloran said he was aiming to kill Albus all along when Harry knew that hadn’t been his intention?

Harry rose from the bench on the lower level and climbed up to where Hermione was sitting. He slid past her assistants and then leaned down.

“It’s not right,” he whispered.

“I know,” she agreed. “Something’s going on. It’s like he _wants_ to go to Azkaban.”

“Maybe he’s hoping to get into contact with…” Harry trailed off, aware that the people sitting around Hermione could almost certainly hear him. “…You-Know-Who.” _Damn_. He hadn’t meant to phrase it that way. The person sitting beside Hermione jumped so wildly that he spilled his tea down his shirt. Hermione turned and cleaned it with a silent wave of her wand.

“He’s being silly, he doesn’t mean _that_ You-Know-Who,” she reassured the man. She looked back to Harry. “That’s what I was thinking, too. She’s had her communication cut off for a few days now. So what should we do with him?”

“I’m not sure. I suppose we should have him personally escorted to a separate wing of Azkaban and ensure he shares no common spaces with…You-Know-Who.”

The man beside Hermione gave another jump.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, I didn’t mean….” Harry trailed off, annoyed.

Hermione looked to the jumpy assistant beside her. “Clint, will you please go find Hill and give her _this_?”

As Hermione spoke, she scrawled out a quick message on the roll of parchment already stretched out in front of her. She tore it off, folded it tightly, sealed it with her wand, and then passed it to Clint. Her assistant nodded and rose to go find the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement; there was an awkward dance as both Clint and Harry kept mirroring each other’s movements in their effort to move past one another. Harry finally flattened himself against the railing and motioned for Clint to get on with it. As soon as he’d left, Harry occupied his vacant seat as the hearing progressed. Not surprisingly, the Wizengamot was unanimous that Halloran should be sentenced the maximum of twenty years in Azkaban. Harry had wanted to hear that verdict, but as he heard the news, Halloran gave a smug grin that made Harry feel less positive about it.

* * *

 

Harry met his family outside of the courtroom after the final verdict. Everybody but Albus and Scorpius rose to their feet as Harry and Hermione walked out.

“Guilty. Twenty years,” Harry said.

James nodded once, satisfied. Ginny set a hand on both Albus and Scorpius’s shoulders. Lily and Albus didn’t look amused.

“Twenty years?” Lily demanded. “Twenty years?!”

“He openly admitted to trying to commit murder and says he’d do it again and he gets twenty years?” Albus said, outraged.

“Minors can’t be given life in prison anymore,” Hermione said gently. “Kingsley changed things. Twenty is the maximum.”

“But he could still be moderately healthy and good-looking in twenty years!” Lily complained. “I mean, he’d be like…thirty-six, which is somewhat ancient, but he might still have a shot at a life!”

Harry scowled. Ginny crossed her arms. “Oh, thirty-six is _ancient_ , is it? It’s so old there’s a chance somebody couldn’t make a life for themselves after that point?”

“Lily’s right!” Albus said. “Twenty years isn’t long enough.”

“Well, that’s the way the law is,” Hermione said firmly. “It’s like that to protect children from paying for one mistake with the rest of their lives.”

“Nearly killing me was just a _tiny mistake_?” Albus challenged.

Hermione completely ignored his bait. “James, are you ready?”

James blinked, clearly taken aback. He looked back at Ginny uncertainly and then back at Hermione. “For…what?”

“For the briefing. We said we’d present our department plans this afternoon. Did you forget? That’s not like you.”

James’s face fell. “Oh. Right. No, I didn’t….well, I just…” he trailed off, visibly struggling with what truths to say and which to swap out for lies. He hesitated for a moment longer and then forced a nod. He turned back to his mum. “Mum, will you tell Nora that I’m really, _really_ sorry, and that I’ll be back soon, and that I love her, and again that I’m really sorry?”

Harry glanced at Hermione. Sure enough, the urgency and longing in James’s voice had tripped a few alarms in Hermione’s head. She scrutinized James.

“Is everything okay? Is Nora ill? She hasn’t been cursed, has she?”

“No!” James said quickly, urgently, his face paling at the mere suggestion. “No, she’s just…really worried about me when I come here. Er…this won’t take a very long time, will it, Aunt Hermione? I only ask because I’ve got plans to revise with my friends.”

“No, it won’t, but we could always postpone if you—…” Hermione trailed off, her gaze landing on something over James’s shoulder. Harry turned around to see the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Vivienne Hill, marching their way, her mouth set in a hard line. She came to a stop beside Hermione, reached down, grabbed her arm urgently, and whispered something. Hermione’s lips parted in surprise.

“What?” Ginny demanded.

“Yes—what?” Harry echoed, his heart picking up automatically.

“Call in everyone. Every Auror,” Hermione said. “Send them all.”

“What’s going on?!” Albus asked.

Hill gave a tight, urgent nod and then turned and hurried back off. Halfway down the corridor, she broke into a run. Harry’s heart plummeted.

“What’s happened, Hermione?” Ginny repeated.

“You, Harry, and Draco need to get the kids back to Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “One of the Aurors trailing Goyle caught him at the edge of the forest with a couple dementors. He thinks he’s summoning them all—and he thinks he’s sending them directly to muggle London, as we’ve already gotten a report of one sighting.”

Harry felt like ice water had been dumped down the back of his shirt. Thousands upon thousands of dementors in an area populated by Muggles?

“How?” Harry demanded. “She’s had her contact cut off. Delphi. How did she give that order?”

“She couldn’t have. So either Goyle’s acting alone, or she gave him the order to do this _in case_ her contact was cut off from them for so many days.”

“I need to go help them,” Harry said.

“No,” Hermione argued. “You need to go back to Hogwarts to make sure the children stay safe. If they need back up, I’ll send for you.”

“But there’s hundreds of—”

“We’ve got plenty of Aurors, Harry, and we’ve had advanced warning,” Hermione reminded him. She looked to Ginny. “Ginny, don’t let him run off to London. You know as well as I do that we need him at Hogwarts in case some get sent there. Our kids are there.”

“I want to help,” Lily said at once, as Harry had instinctively known she would. “I can do a brilliant Patronus, I want to help again!”

Harry chose to ignore her and so did Ginny. Harry reached down and urgently grabbed onto James’s arm, as he was standing closest.

“Let’s get you lot back to Hogwarts,” Harry said, without really looking at anybody, and then he began pulling James towards the lift as Ginny dragged Lily forward and Albus, Scorpius, and Draco marched on after them.

* * *

 

“I—want—to—help,” Lily reiterated, for the hundredth time, as they dusted themselves off from their trip through the Floo.

“Yes, quite aware of that fact,” Ginny dismissed. They’d routed to the staffroom Floo; Ginny perched uneasily on the arm of a nearby armchair as they waited for Draco and the two remaining boys to appear.

“But I can _help_ —”

“You can help by being quiet,” Harry snapped, without thinking it through. He rubbed over his forehead; it’d begun aching. “I need to think, Lulu, all right?”

Lily didn’t reply, but he could sense her insulted, prickly silence, and he knew it was deliberate.

Lily’s ‘Mini Death Eaters’ made it sound as if their parents and/or relatives _knew_ they were being followed by Aurors. If Goyle knew he was being followed, why would he lead that Auror right to the forest as he summoned the dementors? Did he think it would take too long to shake the Auror? Did he not care if the Aurors found out at this point? Or, Harry realized, his stomach churning, did—

“I can do a _brilliant Patronus_!” Lily broke, furious. “It’s irresponsible not to let me help! James and I can help!”

“No,” James said at once, sharply. “No, Lily, we’re staying here.”

“What?! Who _are you_ and what have you done with my brother, _James Sirius Potter_?!”

“LILY!” Harry boomed. It was loud enough to make an old Potions professor in a nearby portrait shriek and tumble into her cauldron. Lily met Harry’s gaze defensively, her brown eyes flashing behind her glasses, her jaw set. Her freckles appeared lighter than usual as the pale skin behind them reddened. His frustration was nearing rage. “Lily, I said to _be quiet_! You are _not_ going into muggle London to help the Aurors! You are thirteen and you are staying here! And if I have to go help and you even _think_ of trying to follow me, I’ll leave you in Neville’s office to be babysat like a toddler!”

Lily made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded like a mixture between a grumble and a growl. Harry buried his face into his hands and tried to regain his train of thought. His pounding headache was making it difficult. As he thought, he heard Draco, Albus, and Scorpius arrive, but he couldn’t stop to greet them. Goyle. He was thinking about Goyle and how he’d just led the Auror right to his plan. Goyle could’ve been too stupid to do much else. But he also could have been _purposefully_ leading the Auror there. But why? Why would he do that? Thousands of dementors were no joke, certainly, but he had to know that they’d call every single Auror there at once and that with every Auror they certainly _could_ get it under control before it got out of hand, so what would he be achieving by tipping them off early? Was their goal even to kill Muggles? Unless—

“I’m going to go ask my Mini Death Eaters what’s going on! This was not in the plan! We didn’t know about this, which means—”

“Lily Luna _Potter_!” Harry screamed. Scorpius jumped. “For once, just _sit and be quiet_! I don’t need your help! You can’t help! Ginny, please! Do something with her!”

His insides, twisting with rage, began to churn from nausea as well. He knew he’d feel guilty for being so harsh with Lily eventually, but right now, he just needed her to be quiet. He couldn’t think and he felt like he was missing something. The pieces didn’t slot together right. There was Halloran, laughing in the face of his twenty-year sentence. Goyle, leading the Auror straight to his plan—

“I’m taking her and James to Gryffindor Tower,” Ginny told Harry. He briefly noted that she sounded a bit curt, but he couldn’t worry about that, either.

“I’ll take Scorpius and Albus,” Draco offered.

“Fine,” Harry bit, unable to think that through with the state of his headache. He hardly heard them leave as he rubbed over his temples. Halloran—Goyle—Halloran—Goyle. His headache began to narrow and centralize. He barely realized that he was rubbing over his scar for the first few seconds that he was. And then it all clicked soundly into place.

Goyle had known he was being followed and he used that to his advantage. Delphi _had_ instructed him to do that in case they caught onto her and cut off her contact. He had been ordered to release dementors into London—but not to kill off Muggles. He’d been instructed to release dementors into London to get every possible Auror in one spot, and away from another.

Halloran had grinned at his sentence because he knew he wasn’t really staring down a twenty-year imprisonment.

He was staring down an hour-long one.

* * *

 

Harry sprinted down the corridors, out of breath, his head aching even worse from the exertion. He’d tried to contact Hermione via the Floo first, and when he’d failed to locate her (she was allegedly in an emergency meeting with the muggle Prime Minister), he’d tried the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement, but of course she was already in Muggle London where, according to Hermione’s assistant, there were approximately three hundred dementors trying their best to tear their way through Piccadilly Circus.

Between his headache and the helplessness he felt, he could only think of three things to help him solve this problem: finding Ron, finding Ginny, and finding Hermione. But Ron was most likely at Hermione’s side in London. And Ginny was somewhere in the castle. He was on his way to Gryffindor Tower, but he was worried he’d missed her, worried he was wasting the only time left to take action within, worried about so many things he was having a difficult time putting them into thoughts…

_What if Delphi is coming here?_

The thought bounced back and forth in his mind no matter how hard he tried to push it away. Delphi had insisted on one thing and one thing only: speaking with Albus. It was the only thing she’d asked of Harry the entire time he’d spoken with her. The only thing she’d asked of Hermione, the Minister. So where else would she go but here? Would he even know when she’d broken out? Should he go straight to Azkaban himself or stay here to protect his family? If he stayed to watch over Albus, he might become complacent in her escape. If he left, he would be leaving Albus unprotected. But if he kept her from escaping in the first place, there would be no danger for Albus…

Having made up his mind, Harry turned and began sprinting in the opposite direction, back towards the nearest Floo. He’d have to Floo to somewhere else, maybe home, and then from there apparate as close as he could to Azkaban, and then –

“There you are!”

Harry came to an automatic stop at the sound of Ginny’s voice. He glanced back; she was marching towards him, a distinctly intense look in place.

“ _What_ is going on with you?” she demanded. “I understand that Lily can sometimes be…tiring and, well, annoying, but you really—what? What’s wrong?”

It was difficult to do, because when things went wrong his instinct was always to run full-force at the problem himself, but he forced himself to slow down long enough to explain.

“It’s a diversion. The dementors. Goyle, he—they aren’t trying to kill Muggles. They’re trying to distract the Ministry and the Aurors while Delphi makes an escape.”

“What?! How do you know that?!”

“I don’t know it for sure, but it makes sense. Halloran practically begged us to lock him up in Azkaban. He didn’t look worried at all. This happened right after we caught onto Delphi and took away her contact and control over the rest of the Death Eaters…I don’t know how…but I think she’s attempting an escape, so I have to go there and stop here, right now.”

“How would she get out? Weren’t all the guards thoroughly checked out a few days ago?”

“Yes, they were, but who knows how thorough they actually were!”

“Okay. All right, so, we’ll send the Azkaban director a message. Send your Patronus, ask him to check that Delphi is still imprisoned, warn him that she might risk an escape. You can’t just run off to Azkaban though, Harry.”

He knew she was right—he needed to stay here, to watch over the students—but he found it very difficult to semi-calmly send the Azkaban prison director a message via Patronus when he really felt like apparating there himself. He paced as they waited for a reply, refusing to comply with Ginny’s coaxing about going to their living quarters to wait. After only a minute or so, a silver ox came barreling towards them. He came to a steady stop and then spoke, in the director’s gravelly voice.

“Insubordination and attack began nearly twenty minutes ago. Couldn’t get in contact with Ministry for backup. Remaining guards are in the middle of population count—unsure how many have escaped. There are a dozen injuries and one death so far. Will update when we know more. Please alert Ministry if able.”

Ginny had grown remarkably pale. “Oh,” she said weakly.

“She’s coming here. Gin, I know. She’s going to come here.”

“Do we have time to evacuate everybody?”

“I doubt it. She could already be on the grounds; it’s been nearly a half hour.”

His chest was tightening in a way that hinted at severe panic, but he couldn’t let himself give into it. He had to stay focused. He had to fix this.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” Ginny began at once, her tone confident albeit urgent, and in that moment, Harry was sure he’d never loved her more. “Let’s talk while we walk—” Harry set off at once and she mirrored his pace— “You get McGonagall. Have her announce that every student must return to their dorms. I’ll go get our kids, nieces and nephews, and our almost-kids and bring them to our living quarters. We’ll get professors to guard outside of each Common Room entrance.”

“We can start putting up wards right away,” Harry added quickly. “If she hasn’t made it very far, even a few weak ones will at least hold her off.”

“What do we do about Lily? She’s been begging to go see her Mini Death Eaters; she’s really angry with you. If she hears about this, she’s going to run off to try and ‘help’.”

“Don’t tell her a thing. Just get them all to the living quarters, lie to them, tell them we’re having a family dinner and they have to come. By the time McGonagall makes an announcement, they’ll already be safe.”

They arrived at the spot they’d have to go their separate ways. Had Harry not had frantic, overpowering adrenaline coursing through his veins, he might’ve caught her hand and begged her to be careful. But they had no time left; he could gather no more stolen seconds than the time it took for them to share a worried look.

* * *

 

It took one school-wide announcement by McGonagall to send two-thirds of the students obediently running towards their dorms—most students were still shaken over the dementor attack and were not keen to take any risks. The more rebellious ones of the Hogwarts population had to be rounded up. Harry helped Flitwick establish the quickest wards they could manage, ventured back to his and Ginny’s living quarters to make sure that all their family had made it there safely, and then he and Neville combed the lower levels, sending student after student back toward their dorms while Ginny, Draco, and every professor did the same throughout the rest of the school. Nearly fifteen minutes had passed by the time Harry and Neville arrived back at his living quarters, equally out of breath from running up four flights of stairs. Before they could open the door, Harry heard the sound of quick, approaching footsteps. A moment later, Ginny and Draco came into view, running as Harry and Neville had been. Ginny stopped at Harry’s side.

“Got—Peeves on the job,” she managed, her hand pressing over a presumed stitch in her side. “He’s dumping ice water on any student he sees roaming the castle.”

“Not the best method, but probably effective,” Harry acknowledged. He waved his wand and sent their door swinging open. He stepped into the crowded living room and knew from one look at Rose’s vexed and worried expression that something had happened. Iset was passing her a mug of tea as Rose seethed.

“Where’s James? And Albus?” Ginny demanded, her voice a touch higher than usual in her panic. She walked forward into the room and turned, scanning all their nieces, nephews, and kids’ friends. “And Lily! And—Nora and Scorpius!”

Harry’s heart was inching further and further down. What had Lily done now? Harry sought out Aster; she was sitting near the back of the room in a vacant corner, alone except for Eoforwine, her face ashen. His heart plummeted at that sight.

“I told her not to!” Hugo exploded, his voice trembling with anxiety. “I’m sorry, Aunt Ginny, I told her she was being _stupid_!”

“What did she do?! Hugo—what did Lily do?!”

“She was so angry! She—when McGonagall made that announcement—she…” Hugo trailed off, his voice trembling even more, and looked to his elder sister for help.

“She ran off like a bloody _idiot_!” Rose bit. “To find her ‘ _boyfriend’_ and all her new ‘friends’!” Rose closed the words in air-quotes.

“She wanted to help,” Iset added. “We all told her the best way to help would be to stay put, but she didn’t exactly…believe us.”

“All of you and nobody could restrain her?!” Ginny demanded. “Louis?! Roxanne?!”

“James, Rox, and I tried! But she was determined, and when Lily’s determined…” he trailed off with a grimace. “She ran off, James followed after her, Nora followed after him, and then Albus ran after _her_ , and Scorpius ran after _Albus_ …you get the idea.”

“We’ve got to find them,” Draco said. “Right now. Potters, we’ve got to go. Neville, can you stay here and watch over everybody?”

“Yes,” Neville promised.

As Ginny moved towards the door, Harry reexamined the crowded room. His eyes darted from bag to bag, searching for a certain one. Surely Albus hadn’t left it…but if he _had_ it would be invaluable, so he had to check—

“Potter!” Draco snapped.

“Hang on a minute!” Harry said back. He finally spotted Albus and Scorpius’s bags. He stepped around the armchair Roxanne was occupying and leaned over, quickly unzipping Albus’s bag. He rummaged through the sparse belongings. He came up empty handed except for some crumbled bits of parchment at the bottom of the bag and an old sugar quill covered with lint. He nearly gave up, but on a whim, he decided to check Scorpius’s, too. He pulled out five books before he spotted the worn parchment. His heart pounded unpleasantly as he reached for it.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he whispered, his wand at the map. He heard Ginny hurrying over to him as the ink saturated the parchment. They lapsed into a tense silence as they examined the map.

“There,” Ginny said, quicker than Harry had anticipated. He hardly had time to appreciate how good she’d gotten at this before her finger pressed to the parchment. Harry spotted a dot bearing the words _Albus Potter_ hurrying towards Lily’s dot. Scorpius was nearby Albus. For whatever reason, James and Nora were standing still a few feet behind Albus and Scorpius. Lily was in the library, surrounded by her Mini Death Eater crew, Caden at her side. And beside Caden—

Harry’s stomach gave a violent jolt. His vision went blurry for a moment, the back of his neck heated up, his heart began pounding.

“Oh my _God_!” he heard Ginny cry.

“What?” Neville asked at once, probably realizing that if Ginny was resorting to _God_ above _Merlin_ that something had happened.

“How?! How did she—how long has she been—she’s right there, with Lily!” Harry knew he wasn’t making much sense to anybody not currently staring at _Delphini Riddle_ on the map.

“Neville, stay here,” Ginny pleaded again. “Please don’t let anybody leave or enter.”

“I won’t, I promise, I won’t.”

‘What’s going on?” Draco called, still waiting at the doorway. Harry hurried over, deciding it’d be best to explain as they ran.

* * *

 

“They’re all in the library now,” Harry said. His glasses were inching down his nose as he sprinted, the map shaking in his hands as he did. The words were becoming increasingly blurry and difficult to read.  He kept his eyes on the gathering of dots within the library as often as he could without running into walls.

“James and Nora, too?” Ginny called.

“Yes, all of them.”

“Scorpius?” Draco demanded.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry echoed, “ _All_ of them!”

_My kids. My daughter. And it’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so mean to her—_

“Stop. Stop!” Ginny ordered. She stopped running and doubled over, pressing her hands to her thighs. For a moment, Harry thought she was just out of breath, but then she straightened and pointedly pressed her finger over her lips. “We’re getting closer. We don’t want them to hear us coming.”

“We’re still far,” Draco argued. “We need to keep running, we’re wasting time!”

“Delphi’s probably got Death Eaters prowling the corridors nearby! We can’t keep running ahead blindly.” 

“She’s right,” Harry agreed. He pushed his glasses back in place and took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. His legs felt like jelly. “Let’s check the map.”

Panting, the three huddled together around the map. They took stock of the various Death Eaters and their locations. Harry’s eyes found the safest route first.

“Here,” he said, his finger tracing the passageway. “There’s nobody outside of it. We’ll come out nearby your office, Draco, and from there we’ll just have to get past Carrow.”

“I’ll deal with Carrow,” Ginny said quickly. She straightened, reached up, and tied her hair up, her face set with the sort of determination that Harry had seen innumerable times on Lily’s face. “We’ve got history. You two get in, get the kids, and get out. I don’t care what happens to Delphi; just get the kids.”

* * *

 

Harry and Draco pressed their backs flat against the wall. Harry’s heartbeat was so loud it was echoing around his head; he worried that Carrow might hear it, too. As Ginny rounded the corner, her wand held ready, Harry felt his chest tightening. He squeezed his sweaty palms into tight, worried fists.

“Professor Carrow,” Ginny greeted. “No, don’t even bother—oh, you’re going to bother, aren’t you? _Protego_!”

“ _Crucio_!”

“Straight for the Cruciatus, I see. I guess it’s true: people really _don’t_ change.”

“ _Carnificina!_ ”

Draco gave an audible gasp at Harry’s side. Harry automatically wrenched forward, to run in there, but Draco caught his arm. A moment later, they heard a muffled _bang_ as the curse hit what sounded like the wall. Ginny had presumably dodged it. When she spoke next, there was no humor to be found in her words.

“I see you’re still lacking the intelligence and creativity required to think things through properly. Using that curse on me? After what your nephew did to my son? _Really_? _”_

Alecto Carrow shrieked a moment later.

“Nonverbal is helpful in these situations,” Ginny said. “Now… _expelliarmus!_ That was embarrassingly easy. You can go on past us, Harry and Draco.”

When Harry stepped out of the corridor, he was greeted by an unpleasant eyeful of Alecto Carrow’s undergarments. She was hanging in the air by her ankle, having fallen victim to a Levicorpus, her cloaks falling down over her face. Ginny hardly paid her any mind.

“Let’s go,” Ginny said.

“What about her?” Draco asked.

“Leave her,” replied Ginny.

“Up by her ankle?”

Ginny turned and appraised the woman. Harry wondered if she was thinking about all the pain and humiliation she’d received from Carrow when she was only a girl. Harry was definitely thinking about it. More pointedly, he was thinking of the slight tremble to Ginny’s lips the first time she’d opened up to him about it.

Ginny turned back around. “Yes,” she decided. “Up by her ankle.”

Harry couldn’t see Carrow’s face thanks to her hanging cloak, but he was confident that she was probably red in the face with rage. As they walked on, Carrow called after them: “Your daughter’s nearly as confident as you were, Weasley, but she can’t take the Cruciatus even half as well as you could.”

Harry felt as if he’d been physically shoved. He stumbled mid-step, he felt his stomach bottom out, and before he could consider it, he’d turned around and thrown himself towards Carrow. He felt Draco’s nails tear at his back as he reached for a handful of Harry’s robes. He managed to yank him to a stop, but Harry heard popping as a few seams tore.

“ _No!”_ Draco yelled. “It’s not worth it! They could be torturing her while you’re retaliating!”

He briefly registered Ginny furiously sending a torrent of cold water at Carrow, so she was left cold and hanging, but he was distracted from that as Draco hauled him backwards and then turned him around, so his back was to Carrow.

“Not worth it. Revenge is not worth our kids’ lives. Not worth your daughter’s pain.”

Harry looked at Ginny for guidance. Her face was nearly as red as her hair. Both hands were closed tightly around a wand—her own in her right, Carrow’s in her left.

“I hope she dies like that,” Ginny drew out, each word measured and, in that moment, entirely genuine. Harry felt a shiver race down his spine as she marched forward. He and Draco quickly followed.

They needed a strategy for entering that library. Without one, they would surely lose. But he and Ginny were so panicked, so sick with fear for their daughter and what might be happening to her, that neither of them were able to stop plowing forward. It was Draco who grabbed onto their hands and pulled them to a stop outside of the library doors.

“All at once?” he asked.

Harry hadn’t realized he was shaking, but as he lifted his wand, he noticed it was quivering. “You two aim for the Death Eaters closest to us. I’ll aim for Delphi.”

“On the count of three…one…two…three…” Draco yanked the library doors open. “ _Petrificus Totalus!”_

_“Stupefy!”_ Ginny shouted.

Goyle was knocked to the floor by Draco’s spell. Zabini crashed back into the shelves as Ginny’s stunning spell knocked into him where he stood. And Harry, whose gaze had landed on Delphi, had frozen. Because his youngest was wrapped up in Delphi’s arms, in a way that at first made him think she was being embraced. But then he noticed the weakness of her legs, the blood congealing on her bottom lip, the wand tip pressed to her throat.

“One move and I’ll kill her,” Delphi greeted. Her voice was dripping with cold, measured cheerfulness. She’d sounded very different during their conversation in Azkaban. “Hello again.”

“Dad!” Scorpius cried, breaking the tense silence. “Behind you!”

Draco reared around just in time. He shot a stunning spell at the first approaching Death Eater; Harry heard Ginny quickly backing him up. Harry took a few cautious steps forward, his eyes locked on his daughter. She looked enraged more than anything. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her teeth gritted. Had Delphi moved her wand even a centimeter away, Lily would’ve surely done something stupid like headbutted her face or kneed her in the groin. The adrenaline coursing through Harry doubled at the sight of his daughter with a wand to her throat, to the point that he almost felt as if he were gliding instead of walking.

“Delphi,” Harry finally said slowly. “We can talk without this.”

“Give me your wands. _Now_!” she ordered.

Harry glanced quickly at the people surrounding Delphi and Lily. Her Mini Death Eaters still had wands, including Caden. Were they in on this? Had they given Lily up? Albus and Scorpius were wandless but appeared otherwise unharmed. Scorpius was quivering. James’s torn cuticles were leaking enough blood to run down his wrist and bloom onto the white of his shirt cuffs. Nora was at James’s side—as wandless as James, Albus, and Scorpius were—her eyes never straying from Lily, dried tear trails staining her cheeks.

“Delphi, let Lily go,” Ginny said, as Draco secured the library doors, to make sure no other Death Eaters wandered in to help Delphi. Harry glanced at her as she came to stand at his side. She was staring at Lily with a pained, desperate expression. Lily made a quick, involuntary movement as if she were reaching for her mum, but Delphi tightened her hold, restricting her movement even more. Harry felt his throat narrow. “Let her go and we’ll talk.”

“Do you think I’m an _idiot_?” Delphi laughed. She dug her wand into Lily’s throat. Lily coughed and choked. “DROP THEM! Now!” Delphi waited two seconds. “No? All right. _Avada—”_

_“_ NO!” Harry and Ginny chorused. Draco had already dropped his wand and kicked it towards Delphi. Harry could feel Albus’s accusatory gaze as he did the same. Delphi pulled her wand back long enough to summon the three wands to her; Harry saw Lily seriously considering kicking her, but thankfully, she thought better of it.

“God,” Delphi laughed. She pocketed their wands. “This really is so easy, isn’t it? Everybody always talks like taking power is difficult. But all you’ve got to do is capture some children and adults will do anything you want. It’s pathetic, really.”

“What _do_ you want?” Harry asked. His eyes had locked onto Delphi’s wand as it moved back to Lily’s throat. He couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. “Just tell us what you want. The Minister will be here soon. We can work something out.”

“The time for that has passed,” she said sharply. “I know now who you are, who you all are. I have no interest in working with you.”

“Then why are you here?” Ginny demanded. “Revenge?”

“Oh, please,” Delphi snorted. “You think me that petty? No—this has nothing to do with revenge.”

“Will you tell us what it does have to do with?” Draco asked. “We cannot help you if you won’t tell us.”

“I DON’T WANT YOUR HELP!” she reiterated, clearly irritated by the mere idea. “I am not _here_ to negotiate! What do I have to do to get you to understand that?! How about this— _Crucio_!”

Harry jumped forward automatically, but there was nothing he could do. He watched as his youngest child collapsed to the floor. The cause behind her bloody lip became apparent a moment later; she seemed determined not to give Delphi the satisfaction of hearing her scream, so she was biting into her lip to keep herself from doing so. Delphi was laughing as Lily stubbornly stood back up as soon as the pain ebbed, even though her legs were quivering. Delphi wrapped her back up in her arms. Harry wished she’d look at him, but Lily seemed determined to catch somebody else’s eye. When he followed her gaze, he spotted her locking eyes with Caden, who was standing tensely, his hand closed in a fist around his wand. To Harry’s shock, he saw Lily give a tiny shake of her head to Caden.

“Resilient little thing,” Delphi commented, amused. “I quite like her. She reminds me of me at her age. Girl children really are something special; nothing like boys, who cave so easily. No, this little girl managed to worm her way right into _my_ operation. I offered her a place with me…she wasn’t very fond of the idea, not even after a few Cruciatuses. You’ve got to admire her resolve, even if it is a bit idiotic.”

_Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it_ , Harry internally begged Lily, but she was absolutely simmering with rage.

“I don’t want to be part of _your_ operation because you’ve done a rubbish job,” Lily spat. “Entirely unorganized. I think your daddy would probably be ashamed.”

“Lily, stop it!” Nora begged. Harry glanced over at her. She was watching Delphi with intense concentration, clearly monitoring every shift in Delphi’s expression. She seemed to sense it before the rest of them did. A moment later, Delphi sent another _crucio_ Lily’s way, with a bored flick of her wand. This time, Lily bit down hard enough on her lip to warrant stitches. Harry’s stomach roiled at the sight of the blood. He could feel his pulse in his fingers now.

“Stop,” James pleaded suddenly, his voice trembling. “Please, Delphi, she’s only thirteen. I know you’re angry, but a thirteen-year-old really has nothing to do with the things you’re angry about.”

Harry could feel waves of fear emitting from Ginny. He knew she was thinking what he was _:_ that their children needed to keep all attention off them as much as possible. Delphi glanced down at James.

“I’m angry about her making herself the unsanctioned leader to _my_ operation. That is _entirely_ her fault.”

“Delphi, this is about me,” Harry blurted. “I’m the one who killed your father. I’m partially responsible for your mother’s death, too. My daughter didn’t harm your…operation. She…she’s sorry. She knows she was…out of line. Please, just let her go, and you can do what you like with me. I’m the one at fault. _Please_ , Delphi, please.”

Delphi laughed. She looked down at Lily. “See how quickly they weaken? I’ve practically got him on his knees. All right, Lily Potter. Apologize to me.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry heard Albus mutter, hopefully softly enough that it didn’t reach Delphi.

Lily continued glowering at Delphi. They held eye contact for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“I can give you another Cruciatus, if you’d like,” Delphi offered with a serene smile. “Apologize and I’ll let you run to Mummy and Daddy.”

“Apologize for _what_?” Lily asked.

“Lily,” Ginny hissed, horrified.

“For coming in where you weren’t invited.”

“Hmm…” Lily considered. Harry was practically writhing in place in horror.

“Lily, just apologize!” Harry ordered.

“Shut up!” Delphi screamed at him. She dug her wand back into Lily’s throat. “I mean it. I’m talking with her, not you.”

_Her cheekiness is going to get her killed,_ Harry realized. He watched her ponder over Delphi’s suggestion with exaggerated concentration.

“Hmmm…” she repeated. “Wait—so what are my choices again?”

_If Delphi doesn’t kill Lily, Ginny probably will_ , Harry thought.

“A girl needs to know her options,” Delphi said lightly. “I understand that. One: I can kill you. Two: I can kill somebody in your family. Three: I can torture you to insanity, though I’m sure that will take quite a lot of time, so it’s not my preferred option. Four: Apologize, and I’ll let you walk over to your parents.”

“Right,” Lily said. Judging by the coldness in her tone, she wasn’t close to bending to Delphi’s will. “I’m sorry. That you were such a rubbish leader.”

Delphi arched an eyebrow. She and Lily held equally challenging looks.

“You question my follow through?” Delphi wondered.

“No, I question your cleverness. You’ve just tortured me, why would you think I’d suddenly apologize to you? What—ten _crucios_ later and we’re going to be best mates and plait each other’s hair?”

Harry was certain that she was going to kill Lily. He prepared himself to run forward and shield her. It might be the only option he had left. But to his surprise, Delphi gave another laugh.

“Blimey, you’re amusing,” she said. “You strengthen under pressure where others bend and crack. I think your head’s gotten substantially too large for your shoulders. So you think it’s so easy to lead? You think you’re so powerful that you can just strut in and take over? Here’s your reality check. Caden?”

Caden already looked liable to vomit, and Delphi hadn’t even finished her request.

“Kill her,” Delphi said.

For the first time, Lily’s expression wavered somewhat. Caden’s hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat. He stared at Delphi for five excruciating seconds, his hand still clenched around his wand, and then he shook his head.

“No,” he said.

Delphi hadn’t expected that. Her smile vanished.

“Sorry?” she challenged.

“No,” he repeated. He shook his head. “No, I won’t kill her.”

“Then I’ll kill _you_!” she said, outraged. “Zabini! Kill her!”

Harry’s heart was sinking. He, as well as Ginny, and almost certainly James, Nora, Albus, and Scorpius, stared pleadingly at Zabini. But he wasn’t looking at them; he was looking at Lily.

“I won’t, either,” he said finally said. His voice broke.

Lily actually appeared shocked this time.

“Another one. Fine,” Delphi said. She was clearly growing unnerved. “Avery.”

A long silence.

“I don’t want to,” Avery finally admitted.

“You don’t _want to_?!” Delphi demanded in a shrill voice, mimicking his whiny words. “Why not?! You think she’s stronger than me? More capable? A better leader?! She’s a thirteen-year-old brat!”

“That’s not why. I don’t give a shit about how powerful she is or isn’t. I don’t want to kill her because she’s our friend.”

Delphi actually burst into laughter at that.

“Your _friend_?! She’s a Potter!”

“She listens to us. She understands us. _She_ would never kill us and she’s never asked us to do something we didn’t want to do. You’re going to kill Rowle and Zabini and probably me. Why would I kill for somebody who would kill me?”

“To save your life! Is everybody _mad_?!” Delphi demanded. “And you’ve no idea what this brat would or wouldn’t do. If I let her choose between her own life and yours, she’d pick her own in a heartbeat.”

“Go on, then,” Caden challenged. “Ask her.”

Delphi turned back to Lily. Lily lifted her chin into the air defiantly and refused to meet Delphi’s eyes. Beads of blood from her lip were steadily dripping down onto her robes, but she made no move to try and staunch the bleeding. She and her Mini Death Eaters were quickly closing ranks.

“Lily. Apologize or I’ll kill them. How’s that?”

Delphi seemed to instinctively realize what Lily’s family already knew—that, to Lily, genuinely apologizing to somebody she hated was just as difficult as embracing death. Lily ground her teeth. She was visibly struggling with the words, but when Delphi moved her wand and pointed it to Caden, Lily found them remarkably quickly.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I’m sorry for taking your…crew! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Okay? I apologize!”

Delphi smiled coldly. “There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

And then, to Harry’s relief, she shoved Lily away from her and in their direction. As soon as Lily was out of Delphi’s proximity, her defiant toughness seemed to melt away. Harry’s eyes burned as Lily immediately limped over to him, as quickly as her quivering limbs would carry her. She collapsed against his chest, her arms wrapping weakly around his middle, her face burrowing into his shirt as if she could hide within his embrace. Harry gathered her into the tightest hug he could manage with his trembling arms. His heart had made a home in his throat. He buried his face into her hair and held on. He felt the words _I’m sorry_ bubbling up, but before he could say them, Lily beat him to it.

“I’m sorry for running off,” she wept into his shirt, quietly enough that nobody else but perhaps Ginny could hear. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry for not listening, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he reassured her, taken aback by the genuineness in her voice. He was finding it difficult to speak. “We’ll talk about it later. Just stay here by my side.”

He could feel the blood from her punctured lip seeping through his shirt.

“I will,” she said, and judging by the way she was still shaking, she meant it. He was astounded by the shift in her; how she’d managed such a stubborn and unaffected face when she was _this_ petrified, he had no idea, but the horror of what his daughter had gone through became even more real to him as he saw her fall apart. She must’ve been so frightened. She must’ve thought she was actually going to die here at the hands of her torturer, all because she’d run off in a fit of anger. For once, she'd been entirely unable to save herself, and he wondered if part of her had thought he wouldn’t even bother to come and save her.

“Now,” Delphi said, to the Death Eater’s kids. “Hand over your wands—and don’t make a fuss. I promise if you attempt to duel me, you’ll regret it.”

Harry remembered dueling her and hoped the Mini Death Eaters wouldn’t even consider it. Thankfully, after a brief glance at each other, they complied with her request. Harry watched each of them pass them over, and, like Delphi, he counted. And as he did, he got a quick flash of a recent memory—Ginny’s right _and_ left hand clenched around a wand, right before they entered the library. She’d taken Carrow’s wand. She’d had two. Delphi had only taken three—one from Ginny, one from Harry, one from Draco. Harry glanced quickly down at his wife. She was already looking up at him, her lips pressed into a tight line. _Not yet,_ he tried to communicate. She seemed to understand. She nodded. Not yet, but soon. Now that Lily no longer had a wand to her throat, and now that they knew her Mini Death Eaters were on their side, they had more room for action.

“Albus Potter,” Delphi smiled. Harry stiffened. Ginny’s hand went into her pocket. _Not yet…not yet, Gin…_ “I came all this way for you, you know.”

“Did you? Wow—I feel terribly honored, Delphi,” Albus bit.

Delphi laughed again. “You Potters really are a cheeky lot! Those mouths are going to get you killed one day.”

“Albus,” Ginny said suddenly. “You don’t have to talk to her.”

“I want to talk to her, Mum. She broke out of Azkaban, broke into Hogwarts, tortured my sister, nearly killed her…it’s only polite to hear her out,” Albus said, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm.

Delphi paused. She examined Albus. “You’ve gotten plucky.”

“That’s one word for it. What do you want, Delphi?”

“I’ve been thinking about everything that happened,” she told him. “Being locked up—it certainly gives you time to think. And I realized that I went about things in the wrong way…I should never have forced you. You see, you and I, we have loads in common. I think we could come to see things in the same way. The prophecy…it might not be too late. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I know you’ve got to do it on your own, and I know now that that means we must do it _together_ , as partners.”

“He doesn’t want to be _your_ partner,” Scorpius blurted. “He doesn’t like you! You’re mad, Delphi, and you need…help.”

“Scorpius,” Draco warned, his tone sharp. “Be quiet.”

“Still thick as thieves, I see,” Delphi commented. “And maybe a bit thicker?”

“None of your _business_ ,” Ginny snapped.

“It’s all my business!” Delphi countered. “Because this is my world now. Your lot has done a fine job of mucking it up. But now, with the dementors on my side, and more and more Death Eaters every day, and the press joining with me, and the public following shortly after…you can’t stop me. You can only join me. And that’s why I’m here, Albus. Because you deserve a chance to make the right choice. Together, we can achieve more than we could apart. We can still fulfill the prophecy. You’re special, Albus. You’re the one who was chosen for this. I never wanted you to be hurt. Halloran Carrow was punished for what he did to you the moment I saw him. We can fix things together, Albus.”

“‘Things’ don’t need fixing, Delphi! Everything was fine the way it is! Everything is fine right now—apart from you being here!” Albus argued. “Things are great with my family. Things are great with Scorpius. I don’t need you to lie to me and inflate my ego any longer. I don’t need your help to make things ‘better’. I just need you to go away and leave me alone. I would never join you. I wouldn’t join you before, and I won’t now.”

Delphi’s eyes flashed. In that moment, Harry saw a genuine likeness to her father. “Who said that I was going to give you a choice?”

“Please—” Ginny tried to say, but Delphi silenced her with a threatening point of her wand towards Albus.

“Kill me, then,” Albus said. At his side, Scorpius flinched at those words.

“Don’t, please, don’t,” Scorpius pleaded.

“Scorpius!” Draco scolded again.

“I’ve already died once. I came back. I’ll take my chances. I’m not frightened of you. I think you’re weak. And sad. I think you long for somebody to love you, but you wouldn’t even know what to do with that love if you even had it. I pity you.”

Delphi’s jaw clenched. “Save your pity, you idiot boy. You never know when to shut up, do you? You and your sister both. I wonder if your brother is the same? Here’s how this will work, Albus. For every time you tell me ‘no’, I’ll kill another person. Let’s start with the eldest Potter.”

“ _No_!” Ginny and Nora shrieked, the same panicked hysteria elevating their voices to a shrill note.

“Well, you get a free pass with that ‘no’, because it wasn’t Albus who said it,” Delphi told James, clearly amused. James had paled, but instead of shrinking back, he’d lifted his chin the same way Lily had before. He stepped to the side, planting his body in front of Nora. She grasped onto his arm from behind him, trying to tug him back behind _her_ , but James locked his legs and refused to move.

“Ah, yes, another stubborn Potter,” Delphi acknowledged. “Probably best to start here. I thought my dad was wrong to have attacked Harry Potter as an infant, but I see now that he had the right idea. Eradicate your foes at the source, before they can even become a problem.”

Ginny was preparing to strike, but before she could, Delphi had her wand at James’s throat. James squared his shoulders. Nora wasn’t nearly as accepting.

“Don’t _touch_ him!” she cried. She managed to wrench herself out of James’s protective grasps. Harry’s stomach turned over.

“Nora, no!” Harry yelled, but she’d already shoved her way between Delphi’s outstretched arm and James, knocking Delphi’s wand from his throat.

“He didn’t do anything! He didn’t do anything to you! You leave him alone—you aren’t allowed to hurt him!”

“I’m not _allowed_?!” Delphi challenged. Her voice had turned frighteningly low. “Who the hell do you think you are? Beyond incredibly stupid, that is.”

James grabbed onto Nora’s upper arms. “Nora, please,” he begged, but she seemed rooted to the floor. From the corner of Harry’s eye, he saw Ginny inching forward slowly, bit by bit. She was trying to get close enough to have a clear shot at Delphi without her movement being noticed. Delphi still had her wand on James and Nora.

“I’m his girlfriend,” Nora finally answered, meeting Delphi’s eyes bravely. 

That answer sent Delphi into genuine hysterics.

“What is this—some sort of…romantic tragedy? Pathetic! Get out of the way!” she ordered.

“No!”

“I’ll kill you both if you don’t move.”

“Nora! Please!”

Delphi had her wand out, and despite Nora’s efforts, she was still able to point it close enough to James to hit him.

“Albus,” Delphi said. “Here’s your first opportunity. Join me.”

Harry could sense that Ginny was about to act in the few seconds before she did, but he had little opportunity to do anything about it. Ginny seemed to realize how serious Delphi was, and with her wand pointed at their eldest, Ginny seemed unwilling to wait any longer to see what Albus would say. They had one brief window to act in as Delphi looked away from James and Nora and glanced at Albus, and in that time, Ginny withdrew Carrow’s wand. She sent a nonverbal spell Delphi’s way, but unfortunately, Carrow’s wand appeared to be a poor match for her; the stunning spell was weaker than intended. It made Delphi cry out and sway weakly on her feet, but she retained her consciousness. She spun around, her eyes flashing.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” she shrieked. Carrow’s wand flew from Ginny’s hand. Zabini made a dive for it, but Delphi stunned him before he could reach it. She summoned it over to herself. “How _pitiful._ I expected better of you. Alecto told me you were a decent fighter. But then again, as I’ve learned—hold anybody’s child’s life in your hands and the parents become blundering idiots. Now. I get the feeling you lot really don’t think I’m serious. How can I remedy that?”

Nobody dared to answer that question. Lily had cringed further into Harry’s embrace. He looked down at her and smoothed his hand down her hair, trying to reassure her. But she seemed to sense what he had: that things had just taken a turn for the worse.

“I really don’t like you,” Delphi said casually, and when Harry looked up, she was looking at Nora. “Your lovesick act is quite unpleasant. I could do without it.”

“NO!” James bellowed. His cry echoed up into the high, circular ceiling of the library. He physically yanked Nora behind him. His skin had taken on a greenish tint and he looked liable to vomit. “NO! Please, no, Delphi, don’t. Please. Don’t!”

“I foresee you both being an issue for me in the future. I have a feeling dealing with her will take care of you, too.”

“You don’t have to do that! You don’t have to worry about us! Please, Delphi, listen, listen to me. You can snap our wands! We’ll leave, okay, we’ll leave the Wizarding world, we’ll go live like Muggles, you’ll never have to see us again if you’re worried about us challenging your rule, we won’t cause you any trouble, just _please,_ please, please don’t hurt her! Please!”

“That’s a creative solution,” Delphi mused. “You’d give up the Wizarding world and all your power just to keep her safe?”

“I would do whatever you asked to keep her safe! Please, Delphi.”

“No, see—this is just _more_ grating,” Delphi laughed. She pointed at Nora. “You. Come here.” Nora didn’t move (not that she could have, James still had her shielded). “Oh, please don’t make me kill your boyfriend and drag you over to me.”

There was urgent, panicked whispering between the two.

“I’d advise listening,” Delphi sang. “Or I’ll just kill you both right now.”

Nora yanked her arms from James and walked bravely after to Delphi. And for the very first time, Harry wondered if Gryffindor bravery might be a fault.

“What’s your name?” Delphi asked her, smiling. Nora crossed her arms.

“Nora.”

“Nora,” Delphi repeated with a nod. She looked over at Albus. “Azkaban changed me a bit—I think it’s important now to always know the names of those you kill.”

“Delphi, please, don’t,” Albus said softly.

“You don’t have to, we understand you’re serious,” Scorpius agreed.

Lily began crying into Harry’s shirt again. She seemed too afraid to look. After years of considering Nora a sister, Harry imagined even the thought of watching would be traumatizing.

James wasted no time on words. He sank straight to his knees, his entire body quivering, his eyes locked on Nora. Nora seemed unwilling to look away from him, too. Beyond her wide, frightened eyes, she seemed to have frozen.

“Please,” James begged, his hands clasping in front of him. “I’m begging you, Delphi. Please. _Please_!”

“Delphi,” Ginny said. Harry could hear tears building in her voice. “This isn’t her fault. I’m the one who tried to attack you. Please. It’s me who should be made an example.”

“No!” James argued. “Nobody needs to be made an example! Not Nora, not my mum! Please, Delphi! What do you want? Just tell me what you want!”

“What I want I can no longer have,” she said sharply. James’s words seemed to have made her angrier. “I wanted a family and a childhood where I was cared for. It’s too late for that, and it’s your father’s fault. But I know now where I belong—I belong with the people who became my dad’s family, his Death Eaters. They showed me the truth. All these children growing up without families because of _you_!” She shot her last words at Harry. “We’ve become each other’s families—a family of orphans and those who have lost their only friends!”

“You won’t make yourself better by doing the same things you think my dad did! By killing and destroying families!” James pleaded. He was shaking so hard now that he was drenched in sweat from the muscular force of it. “Please, Delphi, I love her! I love her and we’re going to have a baby! Don’t start your reign like this—don’t become a ruler who would do this!”

“And why should I let you have a family?! When your father didn’t let _my father_ have a family?!”

“Because your dad didn’t care enough about you to be your family!” Albus exploded. Silence settled over the room. Delphi slowly turned to look at Albus. For the first time, Harry saw pain flash across Delphi’s expression. “My brother is willing to give up the Wizarding world completely to keep Nora and their baby safe. He’s willing to give up everything. Your dad wasn’t willing to do the same! He could have stopped trying to get power once he knew your mum was pregnant with you! He could have stopped once you were born! But the truth is, he cared more about himself and power than he cared about you. Even if my dad _hadn’t_ killed yours, you still wouldn’t have had the family you want! Because they were never capable of loving you! You can’t get what you missed out on by taking it away from other people! You can’t take love by force or intimidation or power! Love is something you give in order to get!”

“Delphi,” Draco said gently, before the impact of Albus’s words had worn off. “Finding your family in friends and mentors is a great thing to do. You _can_ find a family that way. All of you who have banded together…you need each other. But you’re not helping each other by fueling each other’s anger. You might feel vindicated or understood when you’re with them, but do they make you feel loved? If they would turn on you…if you feel capable of killing them…that’s not a family.”

To Harry’s surprise, it was Caden Rowle who chimed in next, just as quickly as Draco had.

“Our guardians didn’t treat us well at all. I understand how rubbish your childhood was because mine was the same. When we were younger, I really looked up to you. I always hoped you were around whenever we had family gatherings because you looked out for me, and I always tried to look out for you. But after you found out the truth about who you are…I wanted to help you and stay on your side, but you’re wrong, Delphi. Think about all you’ve done and you’re still no closer to what you want. You could’ve had what you wanted before. I certainly always thought of you as family, until you gave me a reason not to.”

“I didn’t understand it either. Not until I was around your age. It’s not power and control that makes people care about you. It’s caring about them,” Draco said. “Look at Lily. Those who were in your control willingly listened to her because they trusted her and felt like she cared about them. She won not by force or power—but by being kind. You can scoff, but I can promise you, I can _swear to you_ , as somebody who has fought this battle, that you can spend your entire life trying to beat people into submission to be able to surround yourself with people who make you feel important, but no matter how important you feel, you’ll never feel loved.”

Delphi was wavering. Her wand had lowered a few centimeters. She was watched Draco very carefully.  

“Delphi,” Draco continued softly. He took a careful step forward. “You’re my cousin. I should have visited you. I don’t…beyond my son and our aunt Andromeda, you’re one of the only blood relatives I’ve got left. We’re going to make things better. I’ve already been given clearance by the Minister to draft up new laws. She’s starting loads of new departments. Nobody wants to create any more causalities from a war that’s been over for decades. Don’t make yourself one. Be _better_ than your parents were. Have a better life than they did.”

Draco had done what nobody else had been able to do—he’d broken through to Delphi. She took a few steps towards Draco, entirely forgetting about Nora. Nora sank down to her knees and James slid over towards her. He wrapped her up in his arms. Harry thought he heard him crying softly in relief, but his attention had already shifted towards Draco and Delphi.

“I can’t go back to Azkaban,” Delphi whispered.

“No. You shouldn’t have gone in the first place. The Ministry is starting programs for people who have been through unfair trauma in their lives, people experiencing grief…we’ll get you into one of those programs. With people who understand and care about you. The way your life has been thus far doesn’t have to be the way it’ll always be. You can be different. You can be better.”

“It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late. I can help you. I’m your family. I understand what you’ve been through, where you’re coming from. I understand and I will help you.”

“Even if they don’t want you to? Even if it means turning against _them_?” Delphi demanded.

“Yes. But they understand the importance of standing by family and friends more than most.”

Delphi appeared to be thinking deeply. Nobody dared to interrupt the process. Harry held Lily close while Ginny walked over and sank down onto the ground with James and Nora, probably in case Delphi turned her attention back to them. Draco shifted closer to Albus and Scorpius.

“What do I do?” Delphi finally asked.

“First, give everybody their wands back. We won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us. I promise.”

“And after that?”

“We’ll wait until the Minister arrives. I’ll go with you to speak with her. We’ll get you into a program.”

“I won’t go back to Azkaban?”

“No. I won’t let that happen.”

“I won’t be put in seclusion or solitary?”

“No. I won’t let that happen, either.”

Draco held Delphi’s gaze, and whatever she saw within it, it convinced her. She slowly reached into her pocket and withdrew all her confiscated wands. She passed them over to Draco. For the first time, Harry felt the pressure on his chest easing up.

“All right,” Draco told her. He smiled gently. “Let’s sit here and wait for the Minister, you and me.”

“No restraints?”

“Not unless you’re planning on cursing me. Are you?” Draco asked.

For a second, Harry thought Delphi might smile. But it passed quickly. She shook her head once.

“Okay,” Ginny said. She rose to her feet and gave James and Nora a gentle push. “Out. Let’s all get back to the living quarters. Caden, Zabini, Avery, Potter kids and Scorpius—everybody.”

Lily stepped back from Harry’s arms and took his hand. Harry waited for Albus and Scorpius. He wrapped his free arm around Albus’s shoulders as they walked to the door. Albus let his head fall against Harry’s shoulder, clearly shaken and exhausted. Harry wanted to tell him how proud he was of him, for being so brave, for thinking on his feet, for embodying honor and loyalty. But Albus seemed in his own world, his green eyes fixated on the floor as they walked, his hand wrapped tightly around Scorpius's. There would be time to talk. To Albus, Lily, and James. Opportunities to praise the best in them, to accept and forgive their faults. Because in the end, those faults didn’t really matter; it wasn’t about being perfect or powerful. It was about loving and accepting them—stubbornness, cheekiness, and recklessness included. 


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the school year comes to an end, the Potter family and friends embrace new beginnings.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Their final examination was at two o’clock that Thursday afternoon, and despite Scorpius’s best efforts, Albus still seemed woefully underprepared.

“Name one cause of the Goblin riots of the eighteenth century,” Scorpius requested.

Albus groaned. He rolled over and threw himself across Scorpius’s chest. Scorpius automatically wrapped his arms around him. He laughed as Albus pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder, but the looming presence of their examination required him to keep Albus on track.

“No kissing,” he chided. “Goblin riots. Eighteenth century. One cause. You can do it! I believe in you!”

“One cause? They’re Goblins and Wizardkind has been dicking them around for centuries.”

“Albus! Our exam is in _two hours_!”

“Thank Merlin for that…this is all getting tiring.”

“ _Al-bus..._ ”

“What? I don’t need to continue on with History of Magic. It doesn’t matter what I make.”

“It does matter! Because _I_ want to continue on, and if you don’t, we’ll be separated!”

“Scorpius, we sleep in the same dorm. Our relationship can survive a separate class period.”

Scorpius gave a troubled sigh. Albus sat up and kissed his pouting lips; Scorpius couldn’t help but melt a bit in response. _Two hours,_ he reminded himself. _Don’t get any ideas. Two hours. And for Merlin’s sake, don’t let_ Albus _get any ideas…_

“The Goblins were rebelling against the way they were being treated, Urg the Unclean did some nasty things, Aster’s ancestor Albert Boot resigned as Minister after a really terrible job, the werewolves joined forces with the Goblins, and everything just generally went to shit,” Albus said.

Scorpius felt affection flood his chest. He sat straight up.

“You _did_ read over my notes!” he cried. Albus was grinning as Scorpius leaned in and gave him a kiss. One relieved kiss turned into about ten affectionate ones before Scorpius could remind himself about their very important exam. He put space between them and beamed.

“You might pass yet!” he celebrated.

“Pass?! Thanks for the vote of confidence, Scorpius. I always thought I would _pass…_ ”

“Oh…yeah…so did…I.”

Albus leaned in and gave his bottom lip a teasing nip.

* * *

 

Their revising could’ve been better—they’d joined Rose and Iset on their nightly efforts a little too late, in Scorpius’s opinion—but despite that, Scorpius felt he’d done extremely well. He felt confident about his Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., his Potions one had gone much better than anticipated, and even though he’d been uncertain about a few tasks on the Transfiguration practical examination, he felt he’d aced the theory exam. Even Divination had gone fairly well. So after a successful History of Magic examination period that afternoon, Scorpius left the hall feeling absolutely giddy.

“We did it!” he celebrated.

Albus beamed. “It’s over! No matter what I got, at least it’s over!”

“I think I did pretty well! What about you? What’d you think of that question about wand legislation?”

“I _think_ I remembered about twenty-five percent of what they were expecting on that one. So better than I anticipated I’d do! That section of history always bored me to tears during lectures.”

Scorpius resisted the urge to skip down the corridor. “Now we’ve got nothing to worry about until our N.E.W.T.s! And we can relax on our holiday this summer because we know we did fairly well!”

“To be honest, Scorpius, poor O.W.L. results weren’t going to keep me from enjoying our holiday to France."

“…Now _I_ can fully enjoy our holiday this summer!”

“I’m just excited to find out more about the origin of your fancy silk pants. Will we be visiting the shop? Will I get to pick your next pairs out?”

Scorpius felt his cheeks warm. A familiar tingle raced down his spine.

“Stop,” he grinned. He knocked his hip into Albus’s, hoping that’d knock that _look_ from Albus’s eyes, but they were still intense and unfairly beautiful. He fidgeted with the hem of his robes. “Stop….”

But Albus continued looking at him with that look, so Scorpius didn’t have a choice. He was helpless. He _had_ to pull Albus to a stop and snog him in a cobwebbed alcove. The things he did for love.

* * *

 

They were flustered and out of breath as they stumbled into the mixed-house Common Room, located one flight above the library. It had been in use for six months now, but Scorpius still felt a bit taken aback every time he entered it. The explosion of color, warmth, and the sheer number of students always took him off guard.

“Where are they?” Albus wondered. Scorpius scanned his eyes around the room, searching for their best friends. He grinned a moment later as he locked eyes with Rose. He waved happily.

“There! There they are! C’mon!”

They hurried over to the far corner, where Rose and Iset were sitting with a large group of family and friends. Albus immediately launched into a discussion with Iset about the wand legislation question (a topic they’d both hated learning about) while Scorpius waved at everybody around them. His smile faltered as he spotted James and Nora, sitting together in the farthest armchair, with Harry, Dean Thomas, Lily, Evvie, and Ben surrounding them. Scorpius took one look at Nora’s posture and realized something wasn’t right. She was gripping her bulbous stomach, her teeth were gritted, and her dark skin was shining beneath a thin sheen of sweat. Scorpius gaped.

“Albus,” he said, without tearing his eyes from the scene in front of him. “I think you’re about to be an uncle.”

“Yeah,” Albus agreed, only briefly glancing Scorpius’s way. “She’s gotten _huge_ , hasn’t she? It’s actually a bit adorable. Iset, did you put down Ireland for that question about flight regulations?”

“Er…no, Albus, I mean like…presently. I think she’s in labor.”

“WHAT?!” Albus jumped to his feet, his eyes wide. He turned in place and looked around excitedly, searching for his brother and his brother’s fiancée.

“Oh, yeah,” Rose told them. She leaned back and reached over, pulling Iset into her side. Iset let her head fall on Rose’s shoulder. “Nora’s been in labor for hours.”

“What?!” Albus repeated “And nobody thought to tell me this?! Where is—” Scorpius reached up, grabbed Albus’s hand, and pulled, gently turning him in the right direction, so he could spot Nora and James. He beamed. “Brilliant! C’mon, Scorpius!”

Albus yanked Scorpius to his feet and dragged him over to the armchair the couple was occupying. The contraction seemed to pass right as they approached; Nora collapsed back against James, her hands falling from her stomach. Albus wasted no time shoving Lily off the left arm of the armchair, so he could sit where she’d been.

“Hey!” Lily complained. She aimed a kick at Albus’s leg; he hardly seemed to notice. She gave his side a hard push until he’d inched down enough for her to squeeze back onto the arm of the chair, too.

“Are you having the baby right now, Nora?!” Albus asked.

“Hello,” Scorpius greeted with a smile. Harry smiled back at him. Evvie reached over and gently patted his shoulder in greeting.

“Merlin, I wish,” Nora told Albus. She reached up and took his offered hand. “The pain’s ungodly and it’s been going on for _ages_. James—why’d you stop reading?”

Nora looked back at James. James gave his head a small shake.

“Sorry, just having a difficult time focusing,” James admitted. He grabbed a book that’d fallen between his hip and the chair. He lifted it up and took a deep breath. “Okay. Focusing. Transfiguration. Revising. Exams…” James trailed off, losing his focus once more. “Nope. Sorry, no. I only care about you and the baby right now.” He carelessly dropped the school book to the floor; Dean inhaled sharply, leading Scorpius to believe the book had landed on Nora’s father’s toe. James set his hands on either side of Nora’s stomach and grinned like an idiot, his eyes actually twinkling. He leaned over and whispered to her stomach: “Almost time, Baby Bear!”

“When do you think you’ll have her?” Albus asked.

“Dunno—I need to have her _right now_. James and I have our Transfiguration N.E.W.T. in the morning! Evvie, do you love me?”

Nora turned and gave Evvie wide, pleading eyes. Evvie squinted hers in response.

“Whenever somebody asks me that question, it usually leads to an annoying and sometimes morally objectionable request.”

“But do you?”

“You know I do… _why_?”

“Will you get me a coffee?”

“ _Another_?” Evvie arched her left eyebrow. “Is that…medically advisable?”

“I don’t know about that, Nora,” Dean said quickly. “Water would be better.”

“Water won’t give me the energy to push a seven pound baby from my birth canal…please?”

“Eugh,” Albus said. “Please don’t ever say ‘birth canal’ ever again…”

“I’ll get you a coffee,” James offered. He leaned forward and kissed the side of her face. “Your usual? Cream, sugar, cinnamon?”

Nora reached down and wrapped her arms around her own stomach, trapping James’s hands in place. “No, I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“I _really_ don’t think another coffee is a good idea,” Dean persisted. “Don’t get her one, James.”

“But…if she feels like it’ll make her feel better, why can’t she have one?” James demanded.

“Ginny would get me a coffee!” Nora added.

“Well, Ginny’s not here!” Dean said. “And despite what she may sometimes believe, she is _not_ a midwife or a Healer!”

“Okay,” Evvie interjected firmly. “Everybody calm down. I’m going to go Floo Victoire. If she says it’s okay, I’ll bring back a coffee.”

“Good thinking,” Ben appreciated.

“Oh, could you bring your Transfiguration notes, too?” Nora asked.

“The color coded ones or the chronological ones?”

“Color coded.”

Evvie nodded and headed towards the door. Dean heaved a loud sigh. His brow was furrowed with worry.

“I don’t think you should even be _thinking_ about revising, either,” Dean told Nora, his voice tense. “You need to relax. You can sit for your Transfiguration make up exam. We all figured you would have to miss a few exams, anyway.”

“No, Gringotts is expecting my results on time—oh, glittering _hell_ , not again!”

Albus let out a cry right as Nora did.

“My hand,” he said through gritted teeth. Nora wordlessly dropped his and took Dean’s instead. James was holding her tightly against him, his hands still resting on her stomach, which had gone taut as a drum during the contraction.

“This one is worse,” Nora managed, an edge of panic in her voice. “Where’s Seamus?!”

“He should be here any moment; he said the portkey was at four. Do you want me to try to Floo him, to see if he’s home yet?”

“Yes! I want him here!”

“Okay, okay,” Dean reassured her. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. When he dropped her hand, she immediately took Harry’s in its place.

“No kiss for me?” James teased Dean, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. Nora gave a short laugh, but Dean did not. He narrowed his eyes.

“I think you’ve gotten enough kisses,” Dean snapped. 

“Oooh,” Albus said beneath his breath.

“Ouch,” Lily agreed.

“You can’t ever have enough kisses…” James muttered as Dean stalked off.

Nora was still gritting her teeth and squeezing Harry’s hand. She reached up and took Ben’s with her other one, so she was squeezing both. Even Scorpius realized this contraction was lasting quite a while.

“Er…” Harry said nervously, his eyes on his wristwatch. “I’m not…an expert, but think it might be time to go to St. Mungo’s.”

“What?!” Nora and James chorused.

“But Mum’s not back yet!” James said, panicked.

“And my dads aren’t here!” Nora added.

“They can meet us,” Harry reassured them. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Harry rounded in front of the armchair and reached out, taking both Nora’s hands in his. He pulled her to her feet. James climbed out of the armchair after her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Can I come along?!” Lily asked. She was practically dancing on the spot with excitement. “Please, Dad?! I want to go, too!”

“Could you stay behind just for a bit, Lulu? I need you to help get the message to your mum and Nora’s dads.”

“And then I can go?”

“Yes, you can come along with your mum.”

Lily thought about it for a brief moment. Scorpius thought she might argue or throw a fit about wanting to be involved _right then_. But after considering it, she nodded.

“Okay. I’ll wait right here for them.”

“Good girl,” Harry smiled. “All right, off we go, Jamie and Nora, deep breaths…”

Albus fell down into the now-empty armchair. He patted the spot beside him; Scorpius walked over and joined him.

“Looks like we won’t be getting an early night tonight,” Albus said.

Scorpius was beaming so hard his cheeks ached. “No! But we’ll get a _baby_!”

“I’m going to be an _aunt_ ,” Lily realized. “Aunt Lily.” She nodded. “Yes, that sounds right. I was meant to be the fun aunt.”

“A questionable influence, too,” Albus hissed to Scorpius. He giggled quietly into Albus’s shoulder in response.

“Oh, look,” Lily said happily. She swung her long hair over her shoulder and waved. When Scorpius followed her gaze, he saw Caden had just entered. “My boyfriend’s here. Bye.”

“Oi, Dad said to wait here for Mum and Nora’s dads!”

“I am! I’m just going to wait…over there,” Lily said, a mischievous grin in place. Albus groaned.

“Ugh, I hate this,” he said. “I honestly think I preferred the dragon smuggling to her kissing people in public…”

“Opal _was_ very cute. Have you seen how big he’s gotten? That last picture Charlie sent Lily—wow!”

“Of course I’ve seen it. Lily’s got it duplicated and taped to everything.” Albus rolled his eyes. “Oh, Evvie’s back. Hey, Evvie, Nora’s gone to St. Mungo’s to have the baby.”

Evvie sighed. She switched the steaming mug of coffee from her right hand to her left. “Figures. Ben, fancy a trip to St. Mungo’s?”

“Sounds like rule breaking,” Ben grinned broadly. He winked. “Rule-breaking with my girl. Is it my birthday?”

“No—it’s baby Ginevra’s birth day.” 

Ben laughed. He stood and then walked over, taking the hot mug from Evvie’s hand. He looked to Albus a moment later.

“What—no taunting Evvie for her rule-breaking? That’s not like you, Al.”

“Nah,” Albus said, a relaxed smile in place. “Because you’re going to take Scorpius and me with you.”

“We are, are we?” Evvie challenged. She spotted Ben taking a sip of Nora’s coffee from the corner of her eye. She snapped her head in Ben’s direction and snatched the coffee from him. “You’re seriously going to steal a pregnant woman’s coffee?”

“She can’t drink coffee while she’s birthing a baby! She’d want me to have it!”

“You’re shameless.”

“You _are_ going to take us,” Albus continued, bluntly directing them away from an argument. “And you’re going to take Rose and Iset.”

“Well, if we take you lot, we’ve got to take Clementine, Louis, and Roxanne, and that’s quite a lot of people to smuggle from Hogwarts.”

“Oh, and Nora’s dorm mates,” Ben added. He made a quick amendment. “Except Danielle.”

Evvie turned to Albus. “Fine. Gather everybody. I’m going to go get McGonagall’s permission.”

She turned and walked off, leaving Ben gaping after her.

“Evvie! It’s not breaking the rules if you get permission! Get back here and be a rebel!”

“No! You don’t have to be a rebel if you’re manipulative—people just let you do what you want. It’s much easier,” she called over her shoulder. “Bye. I’ll be back.”

“Should we tell Lily we’re leaving?” Scorpius asked Albus.

“No way,” Albus said. “She’s got a job to do, and anyway—” he glanced towards the corner she was in and grimaced— “she looks busy.”

* * *

 

Scorpius was half asleep with his head in Albus’s lap when Ginny, Lily, and Hermione arrived at the reception area of the Labor and Delivery ward. Ginny was out of breath and, to Scorpius’s surprise, she’d brought along a very unlikely person. Rita Skeeter.

“Any news?” Ginny greeted them. She did a double-take around the reception area. “Blimey—did you bring the entire school?”

“No,” Roxanne reassured her aunt. “We were very particular about who we allowed to come.”

“There are literally no open seats.”

“They should get more seats,” Roxanne shrugged.

Lily walked over and collapsed down onto Dominique’s lap. Scorpius went back to staring at Rita Skeeter.

“Oh,” Ginny said, noticing Scorpius’s gaze. “Yeah, I’ve brought Skeeter along. We were in the middle of a meeting when Harry sent his Patronus. We’ll just continue it right here…after I check on Nora. Be right back.”

“I’ll come along,” Rita said, a manic gleam in her eye. She made to follow after Ginny, but Ginny stopped walking at once.

“Follow me through that door and I’ll drag you straight to hell by your throat,” Ginny shot back, a tight smile in place. Rita quickly stopped following her.

“All right,” Hermione said. She waved her wand; two ornate wooden chairs with plush ruby cushions appeared. “We’ll have our meeting right here. Now, we’ve briefed you on all the new laws regarding the press and minors. Do you have any questions about that?”

“No. I’ve got a few comments.”

“Really not interested in your opinions. Now, I’d like to introduce you to Louis Weasley and Clementine Clearwater. Louis and Clem, could you pull your chairs over here? Yes, thank you.” Scorpius yawned as he watched Clementine and Louis pull their chairs up to Hermione and Rita. Albus dropped his hand to Scorpius’s hair and began pulling his fingers through it. Scorpius grinned. He turned his face and pressed a quick kiss to Albus’s thigh.

“Clementine and Louis are heading up our new Journalistic Integrity Department. Every article will be subject to thorough fact checking before its publication, fact checking that will be performed to the strictest of standards, by the most diligent people. Any articles with lies or half-truths will be sent back to the writer so they can fix it. This applies to all newspapers, magazines, and nonfiction. Any questions on this?”

“Yes. Do you hate creativity? Do you have a soul, Hermione Granger?” Rita asked.

She was utterly ignored. “You have our permission to continue writing, as long as you follow these new standards. A failure to do so will result in employment termination and heavy fines. Understand?”

“I understand that it’s time for me to try my hand at novels,” Rita sniffed.

“You know, Rita, I think you’d be great at that,” Hermione said. “All right. That’s all. Bye.”

Rita didn’t stand. “What?! I can’t stay to see the new Potter?”

Hermione snorted. “Are you joking? If you think Ginny and Harry will let you back there to see their grandchild, you’re more addled than I thought. Good luck on your future endeavors! I’ll walk you to the Floo.”

Rita glowered over her shoulder at all of them as Hermione practically dragged her from the reception area. Albus snickered.

“Serves her right,” he said smugly. “ _She_ doesn’t get to see the baby, but we do.”

Scorpius turned his head and looked up at Albus. Albus glanced down at him. Scorpius smiled softly, his hand rising up to stroke his boyfriend’s cheek.

“What?” Albus smiled.

“You like babies,” Scorpius realized.

Albus’s cheek warmed beneath Scorpius’s hand. “No…I like _this_ baby, my niece baby, James and Nora’s baby.”

“I think you just like babies in general.”

“To be fair, I’ve only interacted with the baby through Nora’s stomach—maybe I’ll find it creepy once it’s actually here.”

“Doubt it,” Scorpius said, his heart doing its familiar Albus-thing. “I think you’re going to be the best uncle there is.”

Albus fought his impending smile, but it was a battle he lost. When he grinned, Scorpius sat up and kissed his smile. Scorpius felt an interrupting tap to the top of his head a moment later. He glanced back.

“I’m going to Muggle London,” Lily told them. “Want anything?”

“You can’t go to Muggle London alone,” Albus scoffed. “What do they even have in Muggle London? And anyway, you haven’t got any muggle money.”

“I’m not going alone. Dominique and Louis are going with me. I’m going to buy my niece some toys. And yes I have—Aster and I have been converting small amounts of pocket money over to muggle money every year since we were ten.”

“What? _Why_?” Albus sighed.

“We’re saving up for the matching muggle tattoos we’re going to get once we’re eighteen,” Lily responded. “Scorpius? Want anything?”

Scorpius pondered. “If I pay you in regular money, can you use some of your converted money to buy the baby a gift from me and Albus?”

Lily shrugged. “Sure, sounds fair. What do you want me to get?”

“Ooh,” Scorpius said. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought hard. “Something soft and cuddly. What do you think, Albus?”

“Sure. Something soft and cuddly. But if Mum and Dad ask, we had no idea you were running off to the muggle part.”

“Deal,” Lily agreed.

Scorpius, Albus, Rose, and Iset spent the next hour guessing their O.W.L scores in each subject. They wrote out their predictions, took bets on whose might be the most accurate, and then drank the tea Molly and Arthur brought when they arrived. Lily returned with the softest stuffed bear that Scorpius had ever touched; he spent the rest of that hour holding it, thinking about how much the baby might like it, and hoping that they might be able to stay here until the baby was born. By the third hour in the reception area, it’d turned into a makeshift N.E.W.T. study room. James and Nora’s friends alternated between quizzing each other, reading their school books, and taking turns going back to the hospital room to check in on their friends.

By the fifth hour, Scorpius’s dad had finally arrived. Albus was asleep with his head in Scorpius’s lap.

“Any news?” Draco asked. “Ginny Floo’d an hour ago and said it was almost time.”

“I haven’t heard anything in the past hour. How was your visit?” Scorpius wondered. He turned and reached for the mug at the table to his right. “Here’s your tea, Albus’s gran saved it especially for you.”

“Good. Really good, actually,” Draco said, after taking a sip of his tea. “Delphi’s got a _pet_.”

“Really? Not an Augurey, I hope.”

Scorpius laughed at his own joke. He trailed off a moment later. He felt a pang; he missed Albus. He hoped he’d wake up soon. He would’ve laughed at that joke.

“A parrot, actually.”

Scorpius snorted. “Only because she couldn’t get her hands on an Augurey…”

“It’s bright—very colorful— and it swears better than any person I’ve ever met.”

“Albus has _got_ to hear this…remind me to tell him when he wakes up.”

Scorpius nodded off at some point, lulled to sleep by Albus’s steady breathing and the quiet rustling of pages and parchment as the seventh years revised. He jumped awake an uncertain amount of time later to the startling sound of gleeful shrieks.

“Baby,” Scorpius realized. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and gently shook Albus. “Albus. Baby.”

Albus sat straight up. It was almost eerie how quickly he shook himself from sleep. “The baby was born?!”

Scorpius pointed at the gathering of people in front of the ward door. They couldn’t see much of anything thanks to the congregation, but going by everybody’s soft _awww_ s, the baby had indeed been born.

Albus jumped up. Scorpius quickly grabbed the stuffed bear and hurried after him. He apologized for Albus as Albus pushed his way through his brother’s friends, fighting his way forward, until—

“Oh,” he heard Albus blurt. Albus froze. Scorpius squeezed between Albus’s back and Louis and peeked around. James was standing tall, a radiant beam lighting up his tear-soaked face, his arms cradling a tiny baby wrapped in a periwinkle blanket. He was glowing with pride and joy. Albus was gaping. “Oh, Merlin…she’s so _tiny…_ ”

“I know,” James beamed. He sniffed as a few more tears leaked from his eyes. His smile had grown even more, something that seemed impossible with how wide it already was. He looked down at his daughter, his eyes filled with the softest of love. “She’s so tiny and so _perfect_.”

“You _made that_ , James,” Albus realized, his voice still a bit stunned. “How cool is that?”

Right after Albus finished speaking, the itsy baby in James’s arms gave the tiniest (and most precious) of yawns. It was just a bit too much for James. He broke down into overjoyed tears. He bent over his daughter and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, little Baby Bear. I love you, Evra,” he whispered.

“Oh, Merlin,” Scorpius heard Lily say. “Just when you think James can’t get any soppier…”

Once all of James and Nora’s friends had seen the baby, and were confident that Nora was safe and resting, they headed back to Hogwarts. Scorpius was one of the lucky ones who got to remain, despite the fact that he wasn’t a blood relative. He, Albus, Lily, Louis, Roxanne, Evvie, Ben, and Clementine joined the four grandparents in Nora’s hospital room. It was a tight fit, but Scorpius didn’t mind the closeness; the joy radiating off everybody made it one of the most welcoming and comfortable rooms he’d ever been in. He grinned as the grandparents doted over baby Evra. He smiled as Ben set _six_ vases of flowers throughout the room for Nora and the baby. And when Nora asked him if _he_ wanted to hold the baby, his heart gave an excited jump.

“Me?” he squeaked.

“If you want,” she said.

Scorpius looked down at Albus, who was currently cradling his newborn niece. He was staring down at Evra with such awe that Scorpius thought he might have to wrestle the baby from him. But Albus sensed Scorpius’s eyes and glanced up.

“Are you next?” he asked.

“If…that’s okay?” Scorpius asked again, just to make sure. James nodded. He still had that same wide smile in place, the one so large it made his eyes crinkle. Scorpius wouldn’t have been surprised if James never frowned ever again.

“I…Mum, can you pass her to Scorpius? I don’t know how to...” Albus trailed off uncertainly. Ginny rose from the end of Nora’s bed and reached for her granddaughter. She scooped her up, kissed her tiny nose, and then faced Scorpius. Scorpius held his arms out, his heart thudding with nervousness and excitement. He’d never held a baby before. What if he dropped her? What if she hated being held by him and she cried? What if he held her too tightly or…or…

Ginny placed her into his arms before he could continue fretting. It took him a few moments to adjust his arms in a way that felt both secure and comfortable, but once he had, he felt his heart absolutely melt. He leaned over and examined her. She looked peaceful, despite the frequent change of hands. Her nose was smaller than the pad of his thumb. She had dark, downy curls adorning the crown of her head. Her tiny mouth was pursed in a pout—Scorpius couldn’t keep himself from giggling at the sight of it. She was so adorable that it rendered him speechless.

“So cute,” he heard himself gush. “So—unbelievably— _adorable_!”

“I know,” James said proudly. “She looks just like me, don’t you think?”

Albus rolled his eyes. “James, she’s a newborn, she doesn’t look like anybody.”

“She looks a lot like Nora when she was a baby,” Dean argued.

“I was just thinking that she reminded me a bit of newborn James,” Harry laughed.

“Well, I think she’s got my nose,” Lily chimed in.

Nora laughed at that. “Wouldn’t that technically be your mum’s nose, Lily?”

“No…it’s my nose, see? I inherited it.”

While everybody debated whose traits baby Ginevra might’ve inherited, Scorpius carefully shifted the baby into his left arm. He reached down with his right hand, grabbed the stuffed bear, and brought it up to her.

“This is for you,” he said softly. He gently rested the bear on her, reached for her tiny hand (he let out an actual squeak at how cute her itsy fingernails were), and then set her hand against the soft fur of the bear. Her hand instinctively closed around the bear’s ear. Scorpius felt his throat narrow alarmingly. Was he going to cry? _This isn’t_ your _niece, Scorpius, get a hold of yourself._ But she was so adorable, and sweet, and fragile, and…

“Are you crying?” Albus demanded.

“N-no,” Scorpius lied. Albus gave him a pointed look. “She’s just so precious.”

“She _is_ adorable,” Albus allowed.

It was amazing to Scorpius. The fact that he was holding a new human being, one who hadn’t even existed at the start of the term. One who had no idea of the things they’d all been through. To her, the world was a blank slate. _She_ was a blank slate. And with luck, she’d grow up to know a world much better than the one that Scorpius had known—just like the world Scorpius had known was much better than the one his own dad had known. Most of all, he hoped that that cycle could continue on and on, until one day babies could be born into a world with no hatred at all.

* * *

 

“Even if I failed my O.W.Ls, the baby saves the year,” Albus decided.

“You didn’t fail,” Scorpius reassured Albus. He sighed. “Do you think your dad is _ever_ going to let us hold her?”

“Not a chance,” Albus said. He looked across the room at Harry, who was still stretched out on the sofa, baby Evra snoozing on his chest. “By the time she wakes up, James and Nora will be back from their exam, and nobody else will get to hold her for the rest of the night. And if my mum gets back before James and Nora—even worse. She’ll be cuddling her and singing to her for hours.”

“I still can’t believe James tried to bring her into his Transfiguration N.E.W.T.,” Scorpius laughed.

“I can,” Albus snorted. “I hope he’s less angry about the instructor refusing to let the baby in…it’s frightening seeing him like that.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius agreed, his eyes wide. Seeing James furious was never a pleasant experience. The last time Scorpius had seen him angry before this had been at Gregory Goyle’s child abuse trial.

“Dad,” Albus complained. “Am I going to get to hold my niece before she’s a year old?”

“Yeah,” Lily agreed. She was at the kitchen table, a length of parchment laid out in front of her. She, Aster Boot, and Caden Rowle were working frantically on an essay they’d put off until the last minute. “I’m missing out on quality bonding time here, Dad.”

Harry didn’t even open his eyes. “You’ll just have to wait your turn, won’t you? _I’m_ bonding with _my_ granddaughter.”

“He’s got a point,” Caden admitted. “Grandfather wins over aunt.”

Lily lifted a spare roll of parchment and whacked Caden over the head with it.

“Exactly, Caden,” Harry said.

“Ugh,” Albus muttered. He grimaced Harry’s way. “I don’t know what’s worse: Caden being officially invited to Potter dinners, or Dad actually approving of him.”

“You’ve got to admit that Caden agreeing to die for Lily was probably pretty impressive to your dad. That was probably his exact requirement, actually…and it was filled.”

Scorpius caught a flash of bright yellow from the corner of his eye. He glanced over and groaned.

“King! Bathilda! _No_! You can’t sleep in the baby’s cot!” he hurried over and scooped the Pygmies out of the colorful cot. He thought they might be attracted to the bright designs; Nora had painted a variety of animals on it, and King in particular seemed to like cozying up next to the image of an elephant. Albus kept joking that he had a crush. “No, no!”

“Stop that,” Albus backed him up, wagging his finger sternly at their pets. Bathilda scaled up Scorpius’s arm and hid against his neck, as if ashamed. King scaled up Scorpius’s other arm and perched proudly atop his head, as if proud.

“What did you decide about the party tonight? Do we stand up Slughorn or make an appearance?” Scorpius asked.

“I dunno…are Rose and Iset going?”

“I think they’re going to the Room of Requirement tonight.”

Albus arched an eyebrow. He smirked. “Oh? Just them, you mean?”

“Oh,” Scorpius said. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Maybe…I didn’t ask…I just took that to mean they weren’t going to the party…”

“Good for them,” Albus said, pleased. “They’ve got the right idea.”

“You _always_ think that’s the right idea.”

“Because it always _is_ ,” Albus grinned. “We could always use a quiet night in.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius had to agree. “It’s been an…eventful school year.”

“I died, came back to life, Delphi almost caused an uprising of Death Eaters, James and Nora had a baby, Lily actually listened to my mum and dad a few times…I reckon we could just relax for the next decade or so and still have really interesting autobiographies.”

“It’s a plan,” Scorpius grinned. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Scorpius let his head fall against Albus’s shoulder.

“All that and we’re still together,” Albus commented lightly.

Scorpius smiled. “Yeah. And thank Merlin for that.”

“Absolutely.”

Scorpius wasn’t naïve enough to expect a decade of utter peace—he _was_ dating a Potter, after all. But he wasn’t worried much about what the future would bring. He and Albus had been through the worst of it, and as long as he had him, he felt confident that the good days would always outnumber the bad.


End file.
